


A Wolf in the Sands

by Ramzes



Series: Strangers in a Strange Land [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-24
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2018-07-17 23:55:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 31,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7291309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ramzes/pseuds/Ramzes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Perhaps the Seven Kingdoms had been close to war, or perhaps not. What matters now is that a peace has started taking root. But there is always a price. And a wold pup would pay it instead of others. How does a winter wolf fare in the sands?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

They came back as the top of the winter snow was still hard from the cold grip of night. Rode silently with their small entourage through the silent winter town watching them with thousands of eyes and not a single cheer, entered the yard, looking as tiny as they never had in the eyes of the boy watching them from a window at the second floor of the Great Keep before suddenly turning and running downstairs. They had _returned_. They were _back_.

Shock jolted him when he saw how aged his father looked. It looked like he had left for Brandon's wedding not a few moons but a few years ago. He had then been accompanied by two hundred of the best men of the North, shining in rich furs and gold, his eyes alight with pride and contentment with the upcoming reaping of all his years of work, with the few white streaks in his dark brown hair only making him look more distinguished; now, he was returning almost alone, covered in snow and mud as if he couldn't have been bothered to change the clothes he had left King's Landing with. His eyes were hollow and red-rimmed, sunken deeply into his gaunt face. On the temples, his hair was pure white. Brandon was changed as well, pale and worn out. From time to time, his hand reached for the sword before his mind remembered that there was no need for him to draw the blade out now.

"Where is Ned?" was Benjen's first question.

"He'll be home in a few days," his father replied.

Benjen didn't dare ask the other question that was searing his chest. While waiting for them, he had planned to ask when he was alone with his father or Ned, out of fear of Brandon's unpredictable reaction. But now, he changed his mind. He'd ask Brandon as soon as they were alone. Pity for his father was a strange, uncomfortable, unwelcome feeling. Rickard Stark had always been the rock in Ben's life, all their lives. It wasn't right for him to look like half an Other.

"You want to ask about Lyanna, don't you?" his father asked when they were in his solar and Benjen knelt before the fireplace to start the fire. "No," Rickard said. "It's fine," he added, although his lips were blue and his hands looked frozen.

Ben didn't dare say anything, he just nodded.

"No one knows where she is," his father said. "They're somewhere in Essos." He paused. "It's a good thing she isn't here," he said bleakly. "I would have done something I'd have regretted till the end of my days."

Any desire Benjen had to defend his sister died under that grim gaze.

"As you know, I swore loyalty to the new king," Rickard said.

_The babe._ Would Aegon Targaryen turn as mad as his father and grandfather? "I know," Ben said guardedly.

"What you don't know because I didn't want to get it to you by ravens is the deal we struck with the Princess Regent."

Now, Ben fell silent. Brandon's taut jaw told him that the deal in question had been a tough thing for both of them, so of course, it would be not to his liking either.

"She offered me a marriage in the exchange for the Baratheon match that we lost."

_Wouldn't Stannis Baratheon accept Lyanna if she reappeared_ , Ben wondered and then realized how ridiculous it was.

"You know that she was wed before she wed Rhaegar?"

"Yes," Ben said reluctantly.

"Her eldest daughter by the marriage to the Dornish heir, Ilana Jordayne, is eight. In Dorne, there are different rules. One day, the girl will become the Lady of the Tor. I do consider the match right for you."

Benjen stared at him in horror. All the tales he had heard about Dornish people sprang to his mind. Treacherous. Savage. Eating snakes. But he knew better than object.

"There is something else as well," his father went on, as if he couldn't wait to finish and be done with it. "I tried to argue the point but that was something that she would not be swayed from. The Princess insists that you leave for Dorne and squire for her brother, Alor Gargalen. She thinks that's her best chance to assure harmonious life for her daughter."

Now, disgust turned to fear, painful fear. Living in Dorne, with Alynna Gargalen's family, people who would no doubt hate him because of Lyanna… But if that was the price of peace? So many Northern men had lost their lives while Ben, as uncomfortable as it might be, would live, even far away.

"I have no doubt that she'll be terribly spoiled," he said, trying to show manhood and light acceptance.

"Most likely," Brandon said. "But her beauty will be a reward enough. You have seen her mother, she's famed for her beauty… and they say her father was extremely personable. The daughter of that marriage would grow up to be a fabulously beautiful young lady, they say. And she's already started."

_Do you think I care_ , Benjen wanted to scream but he couldn't, not when they were so broken. _Do you think I'll be overjoyed by her beauty? I'll hate her face, I'll hate all of her just like they all will hate me…_

And then, startled, he wondered if he had said it aloud because Brandon looked at their father and then made a gesture at Ben to stay silent.

 


	2. Hiss of Snakes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To everyone who commented, my muse thanks you!

The first look at King's Landing left Benjen all but impressed. Low houses, rotting thatched roofs, streets that had never been cleaned since Aegon the Conqueror had first landed there… and his father's men claimed that there was a worse living quarter here, the Flea Bottom. Benjen was glad that their way didn't run anywhere near. He didn't want to be faced with sights that would make him seethe with revulsion and pity even more. In a brief flash of his old self, Brandon had told him that the lowest layer of whatever covered the streets must be dragon shit more than two hundred years old and now, Benjen thought that it might not have been a jest. The dirt was beyond description. It was also – well, tall. _The winter town looks like a celestial abode compared to this_ , Ben thought and the tiny building that was the Red Keep didn't make him think more highly of the city and his occupants. The castle of those who had defeated the Kings in the North should have been at least equal to Winterfell in size, according to him.

The direwolf banner won them many looks and talks, none of them favourable. Ben was sure that at one moment, he heard someone wonder if the Prince's whore had returned and someone replying that no, she wouldn't be as stupid as to arrive in full splendour since that would only make the Princess dispose of her as soon as she saw her and anyway, could someone see a woman in the group? As they traveled up Aegon's Hill, a singer warbled out the song of the Seven who had taken the wolf lord under their protection to show that he was innocent and Ben rolled his eyes. _If they only knew that Father doesn't believe in their Seven_ , he thought and wondered how he could pray to the Old Gods in a land that didn't have godswoods. What had Ned told him about the Vale? Nothing because Ben had not thought to ask him this so important question. _It doesn't matter. I'll find the answer when I get there._

When they got closer to the Red Keep, Ben looked for impaled heads but there were none. Perhaps everything was still as smooth as when his father and Brandon had left the capital.

"Benjen Stark," a steward said, coming to greet him with a bow. "Her Grace has given orders for your accommodations."

"Where is her brother?" Ben asked, eager to meet the man and be done with it.

The steward stared at him over his long nose. "I am sure Alor Gargalen will come to you as soon as he finds the time," he said and Benjen suddenly realized how much it had been to be a Stark in Winterfell, even Lord Rickard's lastborn, and how little it was to be dependent on a Dornishman's will _. I hope you think it was worth it, Lya,_ he thought bitterly as behind him, his companions stirred. But when he turned back to hush them, they had all gone quiet already. His father had instructed them as sternly as he had him.

The chamber he was shown to was not a big one but it was comfortable. Wide windows, plenty of water, many pillows on the floor which surprised Ben – he had never seen them used this way. The door to the adjacent chamber was opened and curiosity led him to peek inside, only to draw back immediately. The bigger bedchamber smelled of aromas that were strange and too strong for him but somehow he knew that they had been left by a woman.

It was still early afternoon but all the weariness from the weeks of traveling suddenly bore down upon him. He curled on a bear hide and fell asleep without bothering to take even a light cover. Starks loved cold.

When he woke up, the sun was already going down. He stretched on the hide and smiled. He felt as refreshed as if he had slept for days.

His head hit something and he looked up and backward, upon which promptly felt a wave of dismay. What he had hit turned out to be a leg… attached to a body ending up in a chin. Ben couldn't see any higher but he had some idea who it was. He scrambled on his feet and was finally able to see a hollow face, a pair of thin arched eyebrows and eyes that were as black as the hair falling down to the man's shoulders. But the thing that most caught his notice was the man's built. He was tall and muscular but as thin as Benjen himself, yet he had clearly widened enough in the shoulders. _Perhaps I can be both strong and thin_ , Ben thought.

"I can see my new squire has arrived," the man said. "Do take a seat. As you might have guessed, I am Alor Gargalen. I hope your travel was not too tiring?"

"No, my lord," Benjen replied, choosing a chair that had no pillows, just wood with carved arm-rests. Alor Gargalen did the same.

"Ser, if you please. I won't be a lord unless my uncle and all his children and grandchildren die which the Seven won't allow since they can't be as evil as to take people like them and force me upon Saltshore."

But his smile faded pretty soon, much like Brandon's had done so often lately when for a moment, he forgot all that had transpired recently and how close the Stranger had been.

"Ser," Ben said.

"How many people do you have with you? I'll have to make arrangements for them."

"None, Ser. They just conveyed me here. I thought you wanted me, not me and half of Winterfell."

He spoke without thinking. Only when the words were already out did he realize that this not-lord might not like being talked back to.

Alor Gargalen merely shrugged. "That is so," he said. "Do you have clothes, then? Or does your rule about just you includes that I didn't mind your stink if you only came with the ones on your back?"

Ben silently pointed with his head at the leather bag that he had carried himself. To his surprise, Gargalen smiled. "I won't leave you unattired," he said. "Or without weapons. It's my duty to provide for you, from the food you eat to the boots you wear. But I won't mind if you want to keep some things of home. The Seven knows that I needed mine."

"What did you take, Ser?" Ben asked with sudden interest. He didn't know much about fostering, only that his own case was a very unusual one. Brandon had been sent to a man he'd one day be a liege lord to; Ned had gone to a man equal to their father in rank. He had to find his footing through trials and errors. It would be good if he got to know as much about Alor Gargalen as possible.

"The wooden sword my father gave me when I was four," the man replied. "A seashell in the form of a horse head. And my two cousins. They were the most important things of all. We went there together as we did everywhere else."

That only made Benjen more miserable. He'd have no one.

"What are my duties going to be?" he asked.

Alor's black inscrutable eyes surveyed him with distance and lack of emotion that let him see how scared and overwhelmed the boy still was. "Let's proceed slowly," he said. "You'll get to know all about it soon enough. I won't demand anything that's impossible. But for now, let's focus on some other things. Do you want to take part in the evening feast?"

With everyone watching him and whispering? Ben shook his head.

"Very well," Alor said. "I envy you a little, to be honest. I promised my sister that I would attend. You can have your meal here. Today," he elaborated.

"When… when are we leaving?" Ben asked, his mouth suddenly dry.

"If the Seven are willing, in a week we'll be on our way to Dorne." Alor rose. "Come on now. My sister wants to meet you."

He said it in a way that didn't leave the boy any chance to object. Ben followed him down long halls, under ornate arches and dragon banners, wishing that they would never stop walking. He wasn't afraid of Alynna Targaryen but he had no wish to meet her either. More than once, he had deflected the blame for Lyanna's actions from her, helped her hide her breaking their father's will. Now, with her not here, he still felt the urge to defend and excuse her but he didn't know how he could do it. That was a rotten thing that she had done, and if he knew it, then she must have known it even as she had been doing it. He wasn't sure what he'd do if the dishonoured Princess said his sister's name, apologize on Lya's behalf or snap back at Alynna.

"Here we are," Gargalen finally said when they stopped in front of a dark door studded with silver. "Is my sister here?" he asked the servant who had appeared out on nowhere into the antechamber.

"Yes, my lord, but your cousin was looking for you and…"

"Ah, so Oberyn is back," Alor said and looked at Benjen. "I must go. You stay here. Alynna will summon you as soon as she's able to."

"Yes, Ser."

But it looked like the new regent wasn't in any great hurry to meet her future goodson. Benjen had already counted the horses on the tapestries thrice and the apples painted on the vaulted ceiling twice before he heard voices from the other side of the thick red curtain that separated the reception chamber from the one he was in. And as soon as he heard the very tone of the voices of the man and woman conversing, he knew that he had no wish to meet her while she was in that mood. Behind her smooth tones, there was something that was undoubtedly a snake hiss.

"So you won't swear the oath?" she was saying.

"Don't tell me that you expected I would," the man replied. "Everything might have gone your way, always, my lady, but not I. Never I. As we both knew years ago."

"You scoundrel!"

A slap rang clearly in the air and then the man spoke again, the scorn in his voice more evident than ever. "No doubt you've wanted to do it for a decade now. I am pleased that I could serve you this way, my lady. But that's the only service I will ever give you. I won't validate your theft."

"You only validate the ones you commit? Or want to, anyway."

Benjen was startled to realize that he was now close to the red curtain, dividing it ever so slightly, imperceptibly until he could see them both. The swarthy woman breathing in gasps, her fists clenched. Ben could see her thirst, her desire to curve her fingers into claws and sink them deep enough to draw blood… The red-haired man looking at her with calm derision, one of the two griffins on his cloak as red as his hair. But the brief change in his expression revealed hatred equal to hers - and then, before Benjen's wide eyes, Alynna Gargalen's own hatred flickered, faded, died. The man didn't mean anything to her now.

"He's dead," the griffin lord said. "Or have you forgotten? He's dead and only months after his death, you wed a man who could give you more – and then hurried to deprive him of his crown. Do not try to pretend innocence and defending your son. Not to me. I know you better than this, my lady. Looks like I knew you better than both your husbands. If he were alive, he'd be terrified by the lengths you were ready to go to satisfy your ambitions."

She didn't waver. "Does your complacency know no limits?" she asked and laughed. "He was always mine. One day, I'll lie down next to him as his lady and wife and you'll only be remembered as the one who tried to steal his affections from his new wife until he came to his senses and saw you for what you were. By those who even remember that a Jon Conninton ever existed in his life, that's it. As to Rhaegar, you're welcome to fight his son for the crown. Perhaps one day he'll be grateful to you. Perhaps not. But even if he is, his gratitude will never reach the extent you want. Till this day, though, you're nothing. So I advise you not to try my patience! If I so choose, your end will be more terrible than anything you dreamed for me when Myles finally turned his back on you to be with me and only me till the end of his days."

The echo of an old pain in the man's eyes made Benjen hold his breath. But when the griffin lord left, proud and tall, there was nothing if not confidence in his step, yet on his cheek, the five fingers of her ire burned.

On the other side of the curtain, the regent of the Seven Kingdoms barely waited for the sound of the closing door before falling to her knees and giving out a howl, pressing her face in her palms. Her body shook with sobs. None of them seemed to have noticed the petrified Ben, although the man had walked past him and Alynna Gargalen had been staring strsight at his face.

"By the Seven," Alor breathed, having just entered. "If I knew he was here, I would have never…"

He looked at Benjen. "Was it very ugly?" he asked.

Ben only nodded. "I don't under…"

"She never got the chance to grieve properly. When her husband died," Alor said tersely and then gave him a long look. "One of the first things I can teach you, you can use in your relationship with my niece: no woman who loves her husband loves his whores. Now, you can go. I'll expect you to be awake tomorrow at dawn."

He went to his twin, leaving Benjen to wonder if his words had been a warning about Lyanna. Was she in any danger? But he could not ask. Not yet. He didn't believe that he'd get an honest answer.

 


	3. In the Heart of Storms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to everyone who commented, it's much appreciated!

In the beginning, Ben had met the prospect of traveling to Dorne on horseback with great enthusiasm but the more they rode, the more disenchanted he became with the notion. Green became boring with time and it came in far too many shapes. They rode past trees with low-hanging branches and one could just reach up and pick up a crab-apple without breaking stride. Peaches were huge and brighter than a sky when red. Gardens sparkled in the distance in green and red, and gold with no need to be covered and their owners seemingly not even trying to use all that grew if the way half-eaten apples and pears riddled the road at times. That was just barbaric! And if the weather kept getting warmer, Benjen Stark would arrive to his destination as a boy-shaped pile of roasted meat.

All of that was before he learned where they'd stop.

"Storm's End?" he asked, horrified. "Ser, you can't!"

Alor pretended not to understand. "Of course I can," he said. "I promised Prince Lewyn that I'd see for myself how his daughter has settled into her new life. And passing so close to Storm's End and not paying a visit isn't going to reflect well on me and by association, my sister."

According to Benjen's knowledge of maps, it wasn't nearly as close but he suspected that Alor knew that.

They arrived in the castle accompanied by the howls of a storm so furious that the wind literally threatened to push them away from their saddles. Horrified horses whinnied and only Ben's pride stopped him from doing the same. But when the fortress rose, he forgot all about that and rose in the stirrups to better take in the bulwark. Truly meant to defy the gods, he thought but the hand that fell on his shoulder and pushed him back down was very much human and none too gentle. "Stay in the saddle!" Alor roared over the wind. Ben thought he might have heard "you little fool" but he couldn't be sure. Anyway, the advice was a sensible one so he followed it.

They passed through the gates with all the grandeur of drowning rats and Ben felt a little avenged at the sight of Alor's pallor. The Dornishman would recover much harder than him. This storm might be different than the ones in the North but Ben was better accustomed to storms of any kind than a son of the hot hell that Dorne was rumoured to be. Anyway, Alor looked well enough to immediately accept the invitation to join Lord Baratheon and his family in the great hall when Ben had sincerely hoped that he wouldn't.

"Are you ready?" he asked simply and the boy raised his chin.

"I am," he said.

After all, he was a Stark of Winterfell.

At the end, it didn't turn out as terribly as he had expected. Ben wasn't even sure what he _had_ been expecting – that Robert Baratheon would take his hammer on him as soon as he noticed him? Instead, he was placed at the high table as he should, being served speedily and talked to politely. But he couldn't help but notice the change in Robert's attitude. He didn't say anything that could be interpreted as offensive or hostile but he didn't talk to him at all while with the rest of Alor's retinue and Alor himself, he was as friendly and open as Ben remembered him from Harrenhall. He didn't look at Ben, didn't address him besides a formal question about his father's health and after some hesitation, another one, not so formal about Ned. _Here, I am Lyanna's brother and not Ned's,_ Ben thought angrily, realizing that he must be looking as sullen as Lord Robert's own brother. _And I am held accountable._ It stung because he had liked Robert, had expected eagerly the day he would have wed Lyanna.

When a serving girl brought him an additional bowl of ice for his wine, he left his roasted meat and looked at the lady of the castle, surprised by her consideration. Sarra Baratheon didn't notice his look, too busy to talk about the hunt that would be organized for their guests the next day. She intended to participate herself despite the evident swell of her belly. "And I'll have a deer over you, my lord," she told her husband eagerly and Robert laughed and assured her that he would not be beaten this easily.

Ben looked away, bitterness choking him all of a sudden. Everything seemed to have gone in a good way for everyone. Except himself. Brandon's wedding to Catelyn Tully had been already celebrated in Winterfell. Lyanna was living somewhere in Essos in blissful oblivion – or lack of concern – about everything that had transpired. Even Robert had gotten a wife who was as half a horse as Lyanna, clearly, and just as lovely. The last bit had surprised Benjen a little. Sarra Martell was tall and fair and except for her olive complexion, she didn't take after her father at all. Her golden-brown hair and the blue eyes must have come from her mother, the woman Lewyn Martell had forced to join the Faith so he could go on his merry way without the inconvenience of being answerable to a wife. Naturally, Ben had assumed that the woman must have been the Crone herself to warrant such an extreme measure. Now, Sarra, too, had benefitted, getting a young husband of outstanding rank. Alynna Gargalen who had never loved Rhaegar anyway had secured the throne for her son. Things had only gone wrong for Ben.

The next day, only Robert and Sarra got close to the animal indeed. Not a deer. A boar. And Ben who was approaching it from the left, could see very well how Robert slowed down so his lady wife could actually get the chance to stab the boar with her spear. _What a fool,_ Ben thought, because even at thirteen he could see that the beast was indeed dangerous, more so for a woman with child. And if he saw, Robert should see it as well. But he didn't. And the woman gave a victorious cry and although her face closed off for a moment when Robert complimented her excellence, she didn't protest. _Nothing like Lya at all_ , Ben thought. His sister would have yelled at Robert for gifting her the most major kill. Now, he resented Sarra as he did all of them lying, hypocritical Dornishmen and women.

"It could have been worse," Alor said that night he and Ben checked on the horses together. "He could have wed Cersei Lannister. Lord Tywin was aiming for that."

"Why didn't he?" Ben asked in the soft, horse-scented semi-darkness that made him more open and comfortable.

"Because my sister felt uncomfortable with another powerful alliance between two Great Houses. Your sister running away with Rhaegar might have ruined the carefully crafted cobweb the great lords were weaving but better to severe any such intentions before they took shape."

The boy understood. The Princess Regent still lived in desperate fear. That was why she had allowed Brandon's wedding to stand without thwarting it – out of care not to insult neither Ben's father or Hoster Tully. But she'd lie, threaten, cajole and whatnot to prevent a second such union if the option of one started arising. Ben wouldn't be surprised if she had offered her own body for Robert's use as well, now that she looked up to task! _She must have offered quite the dowry as well,_ he thought.

"Tywin Lannister is the man she fears most, after Aerys," Alor said thoughtfully as he patted his sandsteed's flank.

Ben lunged at the chance to learn something useful. Perhaps he could let them know at Winterfell how the Regent truly felt. "Is that why he isn't the Hand and only a Master of Treasure?"

"Yes," Alor replied. "And because Jon Arryn is the man who can unite the Seven Kingdoms. Tywin Lannister only knows how to submit."

"And Prince Doran thinks the same way?"

Alor's teeth glinted in the dim light in a knowing smile. "Certainly. He was the one who suggested it."

Reluctantly, Ben had to admit that the split in the Dornish ranks that he relied on to somehow bring him back home looked quite non-existing.

"You have good hands."

Startled, the boy looked at him. The brown sand steed whinnied softly, butting his head against Ben's palm. In the beginning, Alor had had to be present for every inspection because the horse would not answer to anyone but Alor.

"You can tame the wild," the young man said. "I was the one who broke Fire Dancer and took care of him since the day he was born. He had never reacted to anyone else but me. Which was a mistake, mind you. For quite a while, I imagined how I'd die in a battle or tourney or just be kept away from the stables for a while and he'd die from grief. Or refusal to eat," he added, more practically. "Never let an animal become so attached to you, Benjen. It's too cruel."

"I won't," Ben said without actually paying attention. "You mean that Fire Dancer has never allowed anyone else to groom him?" he asked, pride swelling his chest already.

Alor nodded. "You did a good job with him," he said. "Many have tried and I've sat with quite a few of them like I have with you. But you're the only one he has ever accepted. Except for me. You have good hands," he repeated and listened to the din outside. "I must go," he said, rose from his block and stroked the stallion's cheek. He even pressed his own against it for a moment.

_So I am the only one he has ever accepted_ , Ben thought again _. I must tell Lya_ , his mind supplied before he realized that his sister was nowhere near. He raised a hand and angrily wiped away the tear that had found its way down his cheek.

* * *

They were scheduled to leave in a week but another sudden storm delayed them – and this was one coming from the sea. With his heart in his throat, Ben stood at the highest tower in the castle, watching the white ship dodging, swaying, fighting its way through the Shipwrecker Bay. He had never known that a sea could look this black and yet beautiful, with horrifying beauty, like a piece of velvet shot with silver when a lightning stroke. When the world came into view again, the ship would have disappeared and Ben would stare mutely, thinking of all the lives lost. But then, it would appear again, shooting straight from the waves, high and swift, as if the gods themselves had propelled it, and Ben would breathe again, till the next lightning. This dance had no end…

The last roar of the storm pushed the white vessel with neck-breaking speed and savage cruelty, and the earth shook – but the ship was now ashore. Half-buried in the sand…

"Quickly!" the old maester shouted at no one, as far as Ben could see. "We should go and collect them!"

His robes disappeared through the door before Ben could ask who he was talking to.

In the great hall, Robert Baratheon lowered his goblet and gave the boy a look devoid of any mind. "They are dead, aren't they?" he asked. For the first time, he looked like he had forgotten to blame Ben for Lyanna's actions.

"No," the boy replied. "No! The ship came ashore. I…"

"Good," Stannis Baratheon said and pushed himself to his feet in a sudden burst of energy. "We must collect them. Now!"

"Take whatever you need," Robert said, tried to rise, and then Ben realized that he was as drunk as the boy had never thought possible for anyone to be while still awake.

"I'll come with you," Alor offered. "Benjen, you can accompany us. There are many storms in the Summer Sea, you'd better start learning…"

All thoughts of finally curling into his bed and getting some sleep disappeared as he rushed after the Dornishman, as eager to help as he had never expected.

Early the next morning, the sept of the castle started filling with people who had come to thank the Seven for the Stranger not getting any new lives. Benjen wanted to say his thanks as well, so he wandered about, looking for a godswood, although he knew he was not likely to find one. About him, people hurried for the sept or came out of it, their faces calm and peaceful, and he felt even more lonely and separated from them. What could he expect in a land where the old gods could not hear him?

"Perhaps a cave would suffice."

He spun around, angry at himself that he had not heard Sarra Baratheon's approach. But she took his expression the wrong way. "Am I assuming too much? Isn't it a godswood that you're looking for?"

"It is, my lady," he said. The bright morning of light and azure sea, and crispy wind after the night horror could only have been gifted to them by the gods and he wanted to pay his respects and say his gratitude.

She nodded. Today, she wore a loose robe to accommodate her belly, although she'd change it for the evening feast. Her hair was loosely tied up and the brilliant sun that often followed storms turned it into a halo of gold. "Then, you won't find one. They have been erased for hundreds of years. But I have found that a cave at the seashore serves me well. Perhaps it will serve you as well."

Hope and curiosity led him to reply without thinking, "Would you show me there?"

To his surprise, she led him straight to the Shipwrecker Bay down paths consisting of rocks that no lady should ever think of climbing. She was prepared for them, though: without suffering from too much modesty, she had lifted the hem of her robes and skipped before Ben on comfortable, completely unladylike shoes that Lyanna would have loved. Then up another path that only became visible as they were on it already, and suddenly Benjen found himself in a vast space in a rock surrounded from three sides by water. "That's it," Sarra said, her voice echoing and growing like the voice of a giantess. "Perhaps that's one of the place where the people of old sacrificed to the god of sea."

Ben had no idea why she thought so. But he had another question that was more pressing. "I thought Dorne followed the Seven."

"We do," she said. The sea foam flying in made her hair damp and wetted her cheeks like tears. "Did you know that Robert Baratheon isn't my first husband?"

He was surprised. "No, my lady, I didn't."

He should have guessed, though. He knew that she was a few years older than Robert.

"I first married when I was young. And with Daemon Allyrion, I had two sons and a daughter, all lively and healthy. A summer plague took them away from me – all of them, and their father."

Ben was at a loss what to say. He cursed himself for his curiosity. But she kept talking as if she couldn't stop and he realized that she was pleased that she could say this to someone.

"Since they died," she went on, "I can't enter a sept. I cannot pray to the Seven. They took my family and I no longer rely on their mercy. I don't want to honour them with my worship – they can punish me if they so wish!"

He was facing the sea and she was facing him. In the intersection of light and shadows, she looked inhumanely beautiful but without any of the liveliness he saw in the great hall or at the hunt.

"If it was up to me, I'd have taken the sept down. I don't want to honour the gods, I want my children back."

_You will have another child now_ , Ben wanted to say. _You have a new husband._ But if Lyanna hadn't wanted Robert, why would this woman?

"I found this place as I was roaming about and it just… drew me," Sarra said. "Perhaps it will pull you as well."

It did. If only to pray for alleviation of her torment, it did.

When a few hours later the party left for the Boneway, he had forgotten that in Dorne, he had only expected to meet snakes.

 


	4. A List of Mistakes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to everyone who commented, it matters a lot!

_She looks like a mistake._

That was the first thought that crossed Ben's mind when he laid eyes on his little betrothed. Lit by the bright sun of Dorne, Ilana Jordayne resembled Rhaegar Targaryen more than she did her mother. Her black hair didn't matter at all. He had seen her deep purple eyes and chiseled features on many a portrait in the Red Keep. But then, Alynna Gargalen had some Targaryen blood, no matter how distant. Still, it felt like a mistake that her daughter would resemble Prince Rhaegar more than her. And then, of course, there was the matter that she was a _child_. She'd grow up, of course, but right now it felt like he'd have to spend decades here, in this hot land, before she became a woman, or at least a girl old enough to wed. Ser Alor had already made it clear that the wedding would not take place soon after Ilana's flowering.

"Welcome to Dorne," she said. "Welcome to the Tor."

Her words were what could be expected but her eyes were wide and scared, and relieved, all at once. She looked at her grandmother who nodded, as if she wanted to reassure her. But the girl positively brightened when her uncle engaged her in a conversation. At the feast thrown in the guests' honour, Alor sat between his niece and Ben thought that quite wise. He had no idea what he could talk about with a girl of nine – or was she still eight?

"We have to leave in a few days at most," Alor said. "I've been away from home for too long. I miss my family. Is tomorrow a good day to go over the documents, my lady? Michael?"

There was a sudden, uneasy silence, a lull in all conversations, as if the whole table had been listening to Alor, waiting for someone like this to pass. The dowager Lady Jordayne, Ilana's grandmother, looked straight ahead and her fingers clasped the tablecloth, unwittingly, most likely. A line of came dangerously close to the edge. Her son shot Alor a look that was anything but friendly. "Go over the documents? Why? Do you harbour any doubts that something is amiss?"

"Of course not," Alor said quickly. "It's just a matter of precaution, to put a distraught mother's mind at ease."

"I didn't know Alynna to be all this prone to suspicions and whatnot," Michael Jordayne said. "But you can see the documents whenever you want. I should hope that settles the matter, or are we going to be subjected to unwarranted checks each time Alynna decides that she should make sure we aren't robbing her children blind?"

The old Lady Jordayne shook her head at him, reprovingly. "Alynna has been through a lot," she said. "I'll be very sad if it had made her unable to tell friends from enemies. So very sad."

Now, all eyes turned to Ben who tried to ignore that. Of course they'd blame Lyanna. The Princess Regent had clearly been beloved here. It was easier to blame someone else than accept that perhaps it was just her character. Many women had gone through similar things without losing their sound mind. Although right now, he couldn't think of one. But none of that made the stares easier to bear.

It was late in the morning next day when he was finally able to walk around – well, ride around – and see for himself what the place he'd live one day was like. And of course, it all started with the sea.

The Sea of Dorne was nothing like the ones he had seen this far. Today, it was golden-white with brilliant sunlight, although Ben expected that once the sun went away, it would turn out to be blue, like a sea should be. But that was not the odd thing about it. Ben gaped at the streams that were too small to be worth adding to a map that poured into it… or tried to. The heat had dried some of them… kind of. The water started and stopped, and here and there it kept flowing after the end of a dry terrain which had no reason to end at all. There was even a small _lake_ so close to the sea that it should have been fed by its waters, yet a few inches separated the two bodies of water. A few inches, less than a yard. Such a tiny gap and yet an overwhelmingly resilient one. He had to admit that it was lovely, with harsh allure that reminded him of the old fishing towns in the North. How ridiculous!

There were fishing villages here as well and since that was the day he had chosen to explore the coast, he went past them, or through them, until finally he felt lost in a mass of olive faces, black hair and black eyes, all staring at him with curiosity and hostility.

"He doesn't look like a wolf," he heard a little girl say as he dismounted to drink from the fountain in the centre of one such village, and perhaps show someone – he didn't know whom – that they couldn't make him cower. "Do you think he eats raw wolves?"

How ridiculous! Was that how they thought of Northmen here? Was that the reason Ilana had looked so relieved at their meeting – because he wasn't wearing the pelt of a freshly killed beast, the blood still dripping from his shoulders?

"Don't be stupid," someone firmly replied. "If he ate his meat raw, that means that his sister also does. The Prince surely wouldn't have looked at such a girl twice."

Even among the smallfolk, Ben was defined by Lyanna's stupid act. The squire accompanying him looked uncomfortable – but not uncomfortable enough to start a conversation for something small. Not that Ben would have accepted the sympathy. But it would have been nice to get it. Perhaps.

"Was everything fine with the accounts, Ser?" he asked in the afternoon as he inspected Alor's weapons for any sign of spots.

Alor looked at him as if the question had been an extremely stupid one.

"Of course it was."

"But I thought…"

Alor sighed. "So that was how it sounded? I made a mull of it, then. I offended those who were undeserving when that was not my intention at all. I had no idea how to go about it and it looks I chose the worst way possible."

Ben started polishing the sword with a cloth. It was glinting spotless, so he was just keeping it in order. No great effort. He only needed to be careful to not cut himself when he looked at Alor.

"So it _was_ just the Princess worrying?"

"I pray that it was," Alor replied, a shadow laying claim to his features and making him look suddenly older. "I hope it was just a brief concern. After her husband's antics, she can be excused if she thinks she's the one who should take care of her children's interests and her own and check everyone else's work… for a while. They have never given us a reason to doubt them, yet doubt she did. And I made it worse by deciding to indulge her about this, only this time. But I won't let her keep going like this."

Ben's blood froze. So, the Princess turning her allies against her was a possibility now? Should they prepare for another war borne out of mistrust and misguided judgments? _Please, my lady,_ he begged of her silently. _Please shake it away._

"Perhaps an apology?" he suggested.

"Perhaps," Alor agreed. "If it doesn't make it all worse by reminding them that she wanted to see for herself… If I can make her do it at all…"

_We aren't this different, you and I, Ser, are we_? Ben thought with a mix of gloating and sadness. _You love her just as I love Lya. And you cannot condone her misdeeds just as I cannot condone Lya's._ It was only when he was dismissed again that he realized: for the first time he admitted to himself that in this, Lyanna had been in the wrong.

* * *

The Tor was a huge sprawling castle of a most unusual form. From a distance, it distinctly looked like a battlehammer, with the long part shining in white and the two shorter ones resembling the colour of blood. The adjacent buildings were as small as dots. But the interior of it was even more unusual. Even in chambers at the same side, light entered differently. The very air was different. The late lord's solar – well, Lady Ilana's solar now, or at least it would be when she grew up – was bright and inviting. The great hall looked downright grim, despite the rich furnishing. And there was no gallery for the tapestries of House Jordayne's ancestors when there were so many of their portraits. Instead, they hung on the walls of a dark long corridor, so one could miss them. Ben almost did, glancing at them absent-mindedly until he suddenly found himself face to face with a young Alynna Gargalen. The shock was such that he recoiled. No, not that she looked more beautiful or even less beautiful here. The difference was that she looked very happy. A small smile of content somehow couldn't mask the zest of life poring off her. She was holding a babe in her arms. Ilana?

"Is she really this beautiful?"

Startled, he looked at her. He hadn't noticed her arrival. "Don't you… know?"

Ilana bit her lip. "I am not sure. I was only six when she left. I remember some of the things she did but not what she looked like. I can only remember one thing – long hair."

_She no longer has that_ , Ben thought and his anger at Alynna surprised him. Her hair was now unfashionably short. But he didn't tell Ilana that. He didn't tell her that he had no recollection of his own mother at all. "Your lady mother is very, very beautiful," he said and as he said that, he realized with some surprise that it was so.

She beamed. "I've been sending her rope," she said, confidentially. "Well, my lady grandmother has. She's been measuring how tall we all were and sending the ropes to my mother. Each of us has their own rope. Even the baby."

"That's very… kind," Ben said. "Is there also a portrait of your father?"

She nodded and showed him a man in his twenties, with hair that was lighter than the colours Ben had used to seeing here. Myles Jordayne was dark-eyed, serious, well-built. Not very impressive but not unimpressive either. No different from any other man. "Do you remember him?" he asked.

Ilana shook her head. "Barely. Mostly, I remember what he did."

"And what was that?"

"He loved riding and sailing. And my mother."

_Did he_ , Ben wondered. _If he did, how could he have loved another man before?_ He wanted to know more about the House he would wed into but it was getting increasingly clear that his little betrothed was not the one who could provide him with this information. Not that he could ask any of the other people from the Tor.

"And then he died?" he asked.

Ilana nodded. "And then he died," she confirmed. "And she left."

As he wondered what he should say at this and if he should say something at all, she thought of something else and brightened. "She says she'll send for us soon. I should make another rope, so she won't be surprised at how tall I am!"

To Ben, she looked positively tiny but he knew better than say it. "In the North, we use sticks. We mark them with the respective height."

Ilana nodded. "You can find such a stick in Saltshore," she promised.

She clearly meant well. She wasn't to blame that now Ben could only show his father how tall he had grown by sticks or ropes. He avoided her eye because he was afraid that she's see in his something that could only make things worse.

 


	5. Near the Salt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who commented and sorry about the long delay.

Benjen's first impression of Salt Shore was that the castle was not welcoming, a dark shade in the dark night. There was no moon and in the pale glow of the stars, it looked like a monster of a hundred heads and just as many gaping bellies coated with white blood. Not a single candle behind a window relieved the darkness to let Ben get any idea what he was seeing. Beyond the southern wall, the sea roared and moaned in a myriad of voices worthy of the giant.

But when the night guards who seemed to be the only men awake around opened a side gate and closed it behind the newcomers, Alor sighed as deeply as if he had just shed the weight of all humankind from his shoulders. "I've been away for too long," he murmured. "No, thank you. I don't need those," he told the guard who hurried to him with a torch in hand. "You can go to the barracks," he turned to his men. "May you have some good rest. Thank you for your service."

Benjen liked that. Too many lords took their men at-arms service for granted and rarely acknowledged it verbally. His father always made it a point to show his appreciation but this far, few in the North had taken a leaf out of his book. But perhaps that was because Alor wasn't really a lord. Then again, Ilana Jordayne would be a lady of a vast portion of land – was that lady already – and she looked kind and appreciative of everyone who served her.

The steps of the men echoed off the stone paving and Ben wondered why they hadn't roused the entire castle. Alor reached out and grabbed his hand. "Come with me," he said and in the dark halls and corridors, deprived from the starlight, at faint as it was, Ben could only hold to his hand.

They passed through a labyrinth of halls, a garden sleeping for the night, those tiny violet flowers Ben didn't know the name of staring straight at the stars. Then, they entered a long gallery with paler rectangular shapes on the walls on both sides, spaced at regular intervals. Doors?

"We're here," Alor said, opening one and going straight forward. Ben waited in the darkness until Alor lit a candle. Only then did he enter, sure that he wouldn't clash into anything.

"That's my bedchamber," Alor said unnecessarily. "For tonight, you can sleep on the settee. I am sure that tomorrow, Lady Isanne would tell us what she has in mind for you."

Ben was so tired that he barely noticed the few pelts thrown around and the strange orange fruit in bowls on a few tables. He undressed and was off as soon as Alor threw him a pillow and the cover of the bed that would serve as a blanket.

When he woke up, the sun was high in the sky, showing that it was past noon, and he had kicked the cover off so it now sprawled in a sea of ruffled red and golden on the floor. For a while, his sleep had been uneasy and now he realized that the Dornish heat had creeped on him here as well.

_Well_ , he thought. _Here I am._ Anxiety suddenly threatened to swallow him. This was the place where he'd spend the next few years. He knew no one here and what they knew of him was that his sister had pulled an odious trick on Lady Alynna who had grown up in this same castle. What awaited him here?

He looked around to find the clothes he had tossed somewhere on the floor last night but they weren't around. On the back of a chair, a new tunic and breeches in bright red and green waited for him. He put them on and left the bedchamber hesitantly.

Alor was nowhere to be seen, at least not down the gallery. As Ben exited, trying to remember the way from last night, swift footfalls echoed somewhere from his left and a woman came through an arched tunnel leading off to a courtyard. She saw him and stopped. Ben bowed his head. "My lady," he said, for her silken robes and the jeweled combs in her brown hair left no room for doubt that she was a lady.

"Benjen Stark," she said and he nodded. "I am Isanne Gargalen," she said. "Welcome to Salt Shore."

The lady of the castle. She was somewhat older than Benjen had expected but she was still compelling, with this porcelain skin and blue eyes. _She can't be Dornish_ , Ben thought, vaguely remembering that she wasn't.

"It's good to see you awake," she said. "Soon, I would have sent someone to check on you. How was the journey?"

"It was fine, my lady, thank you."

It was her turn to nod. "By now, everyone has dined. I'm afraid you'll have to put up with only me for company. You are hungry, right?"

He was but even if he hadn't been, he would not have dared say so. Something in this woman's flawless manners revealed that she'd brook no argument. He followed her to a terrace at the second floor of the main building. As he had expected, she ordered a small meal for herself to keep him company, although she didn't eat much. What he hadn't expected was the _taste_. He looked at his plate in horror. Suddenly, he wasn't hungry anymore.

"No," Lady Gargalen said, staying his hand when he desperately reached for his goblet. "You'll only make it worse. Believe me, I know. You will get used to it, with time, as I did."

In a frantic effort to turn his mind to something else, he looked over the land as far as he could see from this second floor. Gargens with bright flowers – he was now used to those. He was more interested in the white-coated gaping bellies that he had seen behind. His monster turned out to be hills dotted with wide openings.

"Tunnels of salt mines," Lady Isanne said, noticing his look. "We produce by both methods – by evaporating seawater and digging it. It's hard labour indeed. We have salterns and the tunnels are quite deep, crossing almost all the hills here."

Ben wasn't particularly interested in the details but it was strange to see so many venues of gathering the precious material and it did give him something to focus on, other than wondering if his tongue would recover from the burns, ever. Right now, he'd gladly give his right hand for a handful of nice cold snow to eat…

"Come on," the lady said when he had valiantly left only a little food in the plate. "I'll show you to your bedchamber."

Ben wanted to ask if it overlooked the sea which he would have liked but his tongue wouldn't cooperate.

She led him downstairs, towards a long narrow tower near the gardens. She climbed the stairs with the ease of a woman who was much younger. On the third floor, she opened a door in the bottom of a wide corridor. "That will be your home while you're with us," she said. "That's the building my sons and nephews reside in. From time to time, you might hear some squealing but it should not worry you. My grandson is just three and no one is killing him. Not allowed to jump from the window, more likely," she finished and Ben croaked out a laugh.

The bedchamber indeed overlooked the sea. The window was wide and long, with glass in it that Ben hoped would prevent some of the heat of the sun coming in. An alcove near the bed, new rushes on the floor strewn with fresh herbs, a table and chairs, a big chest with elaborate carvings… Lady Isanne threw it open. "These are your clothes," she said.

"I have my own chest…" Ben started.

"It will be brought over soon enough. But as long as you're here, you'll wear what we have prepared for you, else the heat might prove your undoing. Alor sent us word of your built and I think the seamstresses did well."

"I'm sure they did," Ben said and wondered why he was surprised. He was Alor Gargalen's responsibility now. No matter how unwanted he might be here, he was Alor's. Of course he'd want him well-appointed. It was a matter of honour.

The door opened and someone barged in. Benjen looked up and only saw a blur of brown and blue. When the blur stopped, he realized it was brown hair and blue eyes. A boy his own age.

"Where is everyone, Mother?" he asked. "Are they all in the mines? Don't tell me that Laval has mastered the art of silence?"

"I am glad to see you too, Blaze," she replied and he blushed.

"I've just arrived, Mother," he said, trying again. "I trust all is well here?"

"Indeed it is," she said. "Alor's new squire arrived. Benjen Stark. And this is my son. Blaze."

The boy looked like her – the same form of the face, the same dark blue eyes. He looked at Ben with half a smile and half apprehension but then something behind his eyes changed when he looked around, taking in changes that he could clearly see. "Why are his things in my chamber?" he asked sharply.

Lady Isanne sighed. "Ah yes. I forgot. You were in Sunspear when I had to make accommodations for Benjen."

"Where are my things, Mother? I can't believe you threw them away to accommodate him."

He was shooting daggers at both his mother and Ben but the lady didn't look impressed in the least. "Of course I haven't. But I had to give him some proper lodgings and you're leaving back for Hellholt in two days. There was no use to place him in a guest chamber and have him move once again so soon. You can find your things in the Sea Chamber – I believe you always liked it."

"This isn't the matter! Why didn't you put him in the Sea Chamber? I can't believe you'll throw me out in the cold to make him feel comfortable."

She sighed. "By the Seven! I should have never let your uncle hold you when you were a babe! Looks like his taste for drama has poured into you. Now, calm down. Immediately!"

There was something in her voice that made her son keep his silence. Ben had seen it many times in Winterfell. It was a motherly thing, he supposed.

"You haven't lived in this chamber for six years, ever since you left for Hellhalt," the lady said. "Except for short periods of time. Benjen is Alor's squire. He'll be Ilana's husband one day. He isn't an ordinary guest. I placed him here because it would have been very uncomfortable for him to do his duty from the other end of the castle and it'll be easier for us to get to know each other if he's in the family wing. Do you understand?"

"Oh I do." There was heavy irony in Blaze's voice. "A big happy family. I guess there will be a chamber for his sister, once she deigns to return? Perhaps you'd ask Alynna to help you with the furnishing?"

Lady Isanne's patience finally snapped. "That's enough!" she said sharply. "It'll be hard enough as it is and I won't have the family pour oil into this particular fire. If I ever hear that someone has dared mention the girl in this castle, I will…"

The threat went unfinished and Ben answered if it held true for him as well. Not that he was particularly keen on finding out. There was a castle of them and only one of him.

"So," Lady Gargalen went on in her normal polite voice, "we'll all have to deal with the changes. I am sure Benjen will be quite comfortable here."

"I am sure as well! I've always been comfortable here, since I left the nursery. Well, I guess I have to go to the Sea Chamber. I trust that my smallclothes are still mine?"

"It isn't funny, Blaze." She shook her head, disapproval clearly writ on her face. He left the chamber without saying anything, although Ben noticed that he did not slam the door shut.

"My apologies," the Lady of Salt Shore sighed. "He's always been possessive. I should have warned him in advance."

"It's all right, my lady. I can move to this Sea Chamber and…"

"And you won't," she said. "I make the decisions in this castle, not my son. Acquaint yourself with your new chamber. Alor had to leave for the shore and he won't be here until late afternoon so you can rest or walk around, and do whatever you want."

He thanked her and wondered what he _could_ do. He knew no one – and he had already met a person who disliked him in his new home.

He couldn't wait for those two days to pass.

 


	6. Salt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who commented and sorry about the delay.

About two hours into his new chamber – Blaze's old – Ben decided that no matter what Lady Isanne said, her grandson was in danger of being murdered. He knew because he was the one posing the danger. Three year old, she had said? How had he come into possession of such a loud voice? Was he a babe giant, perhaps? Did he never tire of yelling? Couldn't he _talk_?

All in all, Blaze Gargalen was a fool, in Ben's mind. The Sea Chamber, whatever it was like, was certainly better than the closeness of little Lavall Gargalen. Perhaps Blaze had some trouble with his hearing? Ben hoped so… a little. Unfortunately, just when the child shut up, perhaps having gone to sleep, he was summoned to Alor's chamber.

Despite the long journey and how exhausted he had been the night before, the young Dornishman looked rested and in bright mood. He had recently returned from a ride – Ben could say by the faint whiff of horse coming from him and he was suddenly resentful that the castle grooms had taken care of Fire Dancer. He had enjoyed doing it. The slender sand steed was different from the bigger Northern horses but he was a horse nonetheless and Ben had been thrilled to get to learn the differences.

"How have you been today?" Alor asked and Ben shrugged.

"I was waiting for you, Ser, to tell me what you need."

Alor looked surprised before realization hit. "Ah yes. I'm afraid I forgot to leave instructions with Lady Isanne. Well, I expect you to have a look at the horses twice a day, in the morning and night. I'll leave to you to choose when to take care of my weapons, provided that they're always in order. Once a week, you'll wait at the dinner table, starting the day after tomorrow. In the hour after breakfast, you'll have lessons with maester Malar – I advise you not to be late unless writing with runes is your idea of having a good time."

Runes? Ben would be thrilled! Why did they have runes here? The only descendants of the First Men lived far up north.

Wait! In the hurried last minute lessons he had undertaken, it had been mentioned that the Daynes had the blood of the first men. But this was not Starfall.

Still – runes. No, Ben wouldn't mind it at all. He even wondered why maester Wallys had not thought of teaching him runes.

Alor looked at him, a faint smile on his lips. "No," he said. "Those are the Runes of Punishment."

Ben heard the emphasis quite clearly.

"Then, you'll have practice with the master at arms, Ser Hernulf," Alor went on. "I'll come and check on your progress regularly. "A few hours for yourself in the afternoon, and another lesson with the maester of Ser Hernulf, they'll tell me which need is more pressing."

All in all, it didn't sound like an exhausting regimen. But the knight hadn't finished. "And one more thing. As you might know, salt is the main source of our fortune, as well as the fortune of Ilana and the Tor. We believe that one should know what they owe their luck to, so all of us Gargalen men work in the mines for a day per week."

_So you can keep yourselves firmly grounded_ , Ben thought. He couldn't believe that Alor took these things seriously. He was like Brandon and Brandon would have laughed such a suggestion off. Ned would have considered it just. Lyanna would have probably thought it a great adventure – especially with only Gargalen _men_ working there. Allowed to work there, she would have likely thought and tried to pass for a miner of something.

And what about Ben? He certainly did not share Brandon's sentiment of things worthy and unworthy of a warrior. He wasn't sure he welcomed it the way Ned would have. He didn't think of it as an adventure because where was the adventure if something was expected of one? But he was curious. What did salt look like in the beginning, far before it made their way to the high table?

And what a high table it was! Lady Isanne was sitting in her absent husband's place. She had chosen to sit Ben close to her, away from Blaze and the other boys in the castle and while it was a wise choice for the first few days, Ben didn't think it would work this well in the long run. Besides, that placed him next to Lady Aelinor Gargalen, Maelys Blackfyre's whore as she was known as. What was not widely known was that her face didn't look much of a face. Years ago, someone – Maelys the Monstrous? – had meticulously cut the skin as if it were meat for the evening feast. Ben could only imagine what she had looked like when the scars had been still red and angry. As it was, the sight of her made him lose any desire to brave the hot hell Dornishmen called food. Even worse was the fact that she obviously noted his reaction because the skin between the brown lines turned crimson. Why had Ser Alor not warned him? At his other side, a carbon copy of Alor and a woman so fair and golden that she could not possibly have been born in Dorne were shooting questions at Alor and while Ben would like to get some grip of the politics swirling in King's Landing, it was so complicated that he only got wind of Alynna achieving peace with the Tyrells – barely.

"It looks like Errol and I have missed each other," Alor said. "I expected I'll see him in the pass but he took the other road."

"Oberyn is coming home, though," his cousin said. "If all is well, the three of us can go to the Sandstone together."

Alor seemed to like the idea but Lady Isanne did not look convinced. "Lord Qorgyle might not be thrilled to have the three of you together," she said. "The Seven know that I don't. I very much prefer you separately."

She looked dead serious saying it and while it only reaffirmed Ben's belief that he has found himself in the service of a man not so different from Brandon, he only felt more miserable knowing that his lord father had probably been less than thrilled with the prospect but had sent him here anyway.

Lady Loreza asked him polite questions about the North – her accent confirmed that she was indeed Dornish, strange as it was – and while he was happy to reply, he had to pause ever so often before dropping Lyanna's name. Lyanna, his friend and companion. Lyanna, detested here. For all they pretended that he was part of the household if not the family now, he was expected not to say certain things that came naturally to him. He was a glorified hostage and nothing more.

He expected that he'd stay awake all night long reflecting on this but instead, he startled awake to a servant shaking him. It was still some time before dawn and there were clothes laid out for him – at least they were not Blaze's! Or were they? After all, Blaze was supposed to work in the mines as well, since he was Ben's age. He surely had similar thick breeches and a shirt with strings that were tied at the wrist as soon as Ben put it on. He immediately started sweating and the cold air outside felt like a welcome relief as they walked towards one of the white greedy bellies – because he was not in luck. It was Blaze's time in the mines as well. They didn't say anything to each other, didn't even look at each other.

The mouth of the belly – Ben caught himself grinning at this imagery – erupted noise. Voices. Echoes of tools hitting rocks. White puffs swam in the air, as if the monster were breathing.

Blaze walked inside with the confidence of someone who had been here many times, looking over his shoulder to make sure Ben was following.

It almost felt like entering the crypts in Winterfell, save for the many torches lighting their way from their braces in the walls. As they descended down and further down under the earth, Ben felt the pleasant coolness settle in his belly, spread along his limbs. There was no King of Winter here to stare at him with dead, invisible eyes but the earth was… well, earth. One and the same here and in Winterfell. For him and his father, his brothers, Lyanna. He looked around at the white walls and wondered what he expected to see. The tombs of the countless men and women who had died here as they had toiled?

Blaze brought him to an elderly man – elderly compared to the dozens of men Ben had seen this far. None of them looked older than forty and for the first time, he wondered just how crippling mining work was.

"Master Siman, that's Benjen," Blaze said. "Ser Alor's squire. He is to be…"

"Yes," the head of the workers said. "He talked to me about him already."

He had talked to Ben about the man as well. Namely, that Ben was to obey him to the letter. Said most emphatically. The boy had to wonder just how good Ser Alor had been at practicing obedience.

Now, the man handed him a pick and some instructions how to use it. Also a water-skin that he was to sip from at regular intervals. No, he could not take the shirt off or even roll up the sleeves, no matter how hot he was. Ben's sense of comfort was fading rapidly. At Winterfell, any of the men would have smiled and found a good word for Lord Rickard's son. An explanation, even. Here, Siman seemed to view him like a danger that should be waited out, although he got Ben to adopt the correct motions only in a few sweeps.

Ben felt relieved when both the man and Blaze disappeared. There was enough room for him and Blaze to work in for a few weeks without coming upon each other.

The first sweeps were hard but once the rhythm was established and Siman left, Ben felt a strange drive coursing through him. Scraping the salt from the rocks with force let him channel all his anger, all his frustration at his father, at Brandon and Lyanna, at Lady Alynna who would not have him wed her daughter unless he lived here into the movement of the pick. Sweat started pouring off him and he fought the impulse to tear this damned shirt from his body and start working more easily. One strike for Brandon. One for his father. One for Lady Alynna. Oh and one for Lyanna also! Then one for Brandon again…

From time to time, his chapped lips told him that it was time to drink. He had long rolled his sleeves up and when one of the men working nearby came to point it at him, shaking his head, he pretended not to understand. This overstraining felt so good. It felt… cleansing. Like the swear pouring off him. He kept filling the great cart with something white and black that didn't look like salt at all and he wondered what they did later to turn it to the substance that arrived at the tables. He kept filling and pitying the poor men who would pull the cart up – because some of the tunnels they had come through were definitely too low for donkeys. He knew that from this day on, he'd cherish salt even more.

"We're ready," Blaze suddenly said, appearing next to him. Next to the pick, more precisely. He ducked numbly to avoid it and rose almost immediately, in the same liquid motion. Ben glared at him.

"I could have taken your head off!" he yelled.

The other boy didn't look shocked or something. He started to say something but then his eyes went somewhere behind Ben's shoulder. "Pull the sleeves down!" he snapped.

"What?"

"Pull the sleeves down!" Blaze repeated and when Ben did, he reached over to tie the strings somehow. Enough to pass the look of Master Siman who looked surprised but went off saying that Ben had done a great job.

"I am not ready yet," Ben said coolly when the man went on his way.

"You are," Blaze replied. "Since this is your first day, it's shorter than the rest."

Had it been this way for Blaze himself? Of course, Ben didn't ask.

"Alor and Master Siman said so," Blaze added and to this, no protests could be made.

With great creaking, the cart was hoisted over the large chamber just when the boys were near the first curve of the tunnel. Ben gasped. "I thought it was pulled up along the tunnels," he said.

"Not here," Blaze said. "My lord father adopted the direct hoisting. Less danger for the men."

_And more expenses for him_ , Ben thought and wondered what his own father would have done. Donkeys, ropes thick enough to hold, the wasted time when inevitably, from time to time one of them broke, crashing the precious burden on the ground and necessitating change of ropes and a second loading, the modification of the upper part of the chamber and the tunnels to make them able to house animals, men and salt… It would have been much cheaper to use the backs of those who depended on the salt to make a living. No, Ben was not wondering at all. Lord Rickard Stark would have done the same – and it surprised him that in a land as savage and treacherous as Dorne, such Northern values could prevail.

"Your father isn't this different from mine, then," he said and Blaze gave him a strange look.

"Let me see your hands before you enter the castle," he said. "It won't do to return you to Alor with wounds on your skin. I…"

But right then, Ben's first day in the mines showed – the world did a quick dance around him and he barely managed to keep his balance.

"Here," Blaze said. "Drink."

"What," Ben asked after doing so, "was this?"

"The salt dust you've inhaled," Blaze replied. "Don't worry, we've all been through this. And I can see you have no wounds despite rolling the sleeves up. Never do this again. Wounds acquired there take longer to heal."

All of a sudden, the words "salt in a wound" took an entirely different meaning. Ben looked at the scrapes on his arms, making sure that there was no blood. "So, you've seen black because of salt dust?" he asked.

Blaze nodded. "All of us. My brothers. My cousins. There has never been one of us making it through the first day unaffected. And Oberyn managing to cover himself in wounds over a foolish bet is still the stuff of legends. I was a little boy then but I remember how his skin peeled off."

Salt in a wound. Ben shuddered. "I suppose it's a good thing that Master Siman did not see me."

Blaze scowled. "You have no idea."

Actually, Ben thought he might just have. After all, he had grown up in a household that kept a close eye on him because of Brandon. It had always made him irate. Why was he expected to repeat Brandon's follies?

"We must take a bath now," Blaze went on. "And scrub really, really hard. Salt is notoriously difficult to come off and you really don't want to feel it in an hour or so."

Actually, Benjen was pretty sure he disliked feeling it even now. It made him feel like he had been… plastered up. _It's odd how many things I can feel in the open air_.

For a while, they kept walking without saying anything. "It won't be this bad, you know," Blaze suddenly said. "Alor and my lady mother like you and my father is a just man. Soon, the novelty will wear off and no one will gawk at you. Besides," he added, "you have the best chamber in the castle."

It wasn't an excuse, exactly, but that was the closest thing Ben would get. He shrugged in reply and then squinted as something drew his eye. Something green and black, and tugging at his heart, far on the hill beyond the castle. "Is this… is this a godswood?" he asked, not quite daring hope.

Blaze followed his look, as if he truly didn't know what Ben was talking about. How could one have a godswood so very near and not _feel_ it? "Yes," he said. "I had forgotten about it. A dark and ominous place." He shook himself like a dog.

"A powerful place," Ben corrected, awed at how the old trees had survived for so long without any worship.

"I guess one can say so." Blaze didn't look happy by the statement.

_What I can say_ , Ben thought, _is that it won't be this bad here indeed. Perhaps._

 


	7. Not So Bad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who commented!

Ben was surprised how quickly he became accustomed to living in the southern part of the South after having spent his entire life in Winterfell. Sometime between the fortnight and the first month of his stay he even started believing that he might escape with his tongue not entirely burnt and the heat and humidity could no longer disturb his appetite. And a few days into his second month, he packed the clothes he had brought with him and moved them at the bottom of his chest. They could not serve him here and he felt a faint echo of sadness knowing that when he'd head for Winterfell to visit, they would no longer fit him. _I will not turn into a Dornishman_ , he vowed. _Even if I dress like one._ But still he ate Dornish food – lemons were a great favourite, - adopted the Dornish way of having a rest for an hour or two in the afternoon because else, the sun would simply sap his energy, found the Dornish accent increasingly easy to understand, and started mastering the finer points of different spears _. I will fight like a Dornishman_ , he realized and when this prospect disturbed him, he went to the armoury and looked at the sword, axes, maces, all the weapons the rest of Westeros used. The men training in the practice yard did everything the men in his father's yard did and if they preferred spearwork, well, Ben could learn from them without forgetting what Martyn Cassel had taught him about swordplay. And in fact, the old master at-arms here was not so different from Martyn. He was just – well, older.

Alor was always stern but just. He often came to check on Ben's work in the practice yard, the stables and even the kitchens which surprised Ben – but no more than this time when he saw him spilling wine on the carpet in his bedchamber and instead of summoning a servant maid, went to fetch a dry rag and some salt and started rubbing at the wet spot himself; noticing Ben's look, Gillerd Gargalen laughed. "The three of us are experts at this," he explained. "Alor, Oberyn, and I. Since Lord Qorgyle figured out that he could punish us by making us something useful, we've scrubbed Sandstone from dungeons to attics at least three times."

"I imagine Doran feels relieved that should he lose his patience with the three of you and evict you from Dorne, you'll be able to make a living as cleaning servants," Lady Loreza said dryly without moving to help Alor and Ben was left to wonder if he'd be relegated to baking cakes should he displease his knight-master… or Lady Isanne. Yes, he feared this kind lady more than he did Alor or even the lady's husband, the Lord of Salt Shore. Mikkel Gargalen was as hard as Ben's father and while Ben felt some vague self-consciousness and embarrassment each time he met those cold violet eyes, the fair-haired lord was someone he could understand. Lady Isanne who never raised her voice to anyone ruled the household with soft orders that somehow got heard more than a man's bellow. Few dared cross her. Her lord husband respected her advice and of course, that made everyone else do so as well. Ben's mother had died when he had been too young to remember her and the women he had known were the castellan's wife, Old Nan, Lyanna… He didn't know what to expect of a highborn lady in her castle and that filled him with anxiety – and some vague longing each time he saw Lady Isanne with her son Gillerd _. Blaze is very lucky indeed,_ he thought.

The boys in the castle stopped gawking at him after a week or so. Blaze had been right about that. A question about the practice at arms at Winterfell laid out the foundation of the end of his isolation, and Alor smiled when a few weeks later, he came to check on his progress with the swords and found him not alone but talking animatedly to the others. The head groom stopped watching him like a hawk when he was near the horses and Ben felt ridiculously proud, as if he had proved himself to the man as well, just like he had proven his worth to the men in the mines since his second or third day down there.

He seemed to have trouble proving himself to the girls, though…

She was the eldest daughter of the castellan. Her name was Celedra and she wore her black hair in three heavy braids that she then braided in one, as thick as Ben's hand. Her eyes were black and full of laughter and he never knew how to respond to her wicked looks and the curve of her smile. The girls he knew were not like this. But he had been too young then. What would Brandon do in his place? How would he react to be the one courted? It was unnatural, albeit flattering. He got more than a laughter or three from the other boys but when he saw Alor and Lady Lorezza watch the girl's approaches and smile, he realized just how great of amusement he was to everyone in the castle. And still, this change of parts disturbed him. It wasn't natural. Although at the end he was the one who kissed her, he almost expected to be presented with flowers! Red roses that filled Lady Isanne's garden with sweet sadness. If Ned were here, he would have shook his head. Brandon would have laughed. Lyanna would have likely said she liked Celedra. Or disdained her for throwing herself at him like this. He wasn't sure which… but he was sure he liked Celedra's kisses, even the first real one that was a fight to adjust teeth and tongues and made him realize that for all her supposed sophistication, she had never kissed anyone before either.

"Ser?" he asked one morning as he checked on Fire Dancer and the other horses he had been assigned to and Alor had come to the stables to make the sand steed ready for a ride because all the grooms were busy. "Can I ask you a question?"

He was sure of the answer – Alor never refused to tell him anything, from the tensions in Prince Doran's council to the number of ships under his father's command – and sure enough, the young man nodded.

"Why did they assign me to you? I thought I was supposed to go to the Tor so Lady Ilana and I could get to know each other."

Alor stopped checking Fire Dancer's hooves and gave Ben a long, silent look. "My sister reconsidered," he said. "That was her initial insistence indeed but I think she remembered that Myles was fostered here. They grew up together, more than she and I did, in fact, when I left for Sandstone. As a result, it was hard for him to look at her and see a woman, even when she became his wife."

Was that the reason the late Myles Jordayne had liked – _loved_ – a man? Had he only seen Lady Alynna as a sister? Still, she had looked certain that she had been loved.

"She decided that she'd spare her daughter such an experience," Alor added.

As hard as he tried, Benjen could not imagine little Ilana grown into a woman. To him, she was a pretty child. But Lady Alynna's fears made his own rise. What if he didn't get accustomed to _the Tor_? What if he only kept liking dark hair, eyes, and skin – Celedra's colours? What if he couldn't do it with Ilana? Not that he was even sure what _it_ was. But those meticulous calculations of Lady Alynna's made him remember that he wasn't here as an act of allegiance. There were some greatexpectations of him.

Well, if a man like Myles Jordayne had been able to meet his, surely Ben would have no problem.

It seemed that Alor sensed what he was thinking because he smiled faintly. "Let time do its job," he said and changed the topic. "I can see you've changed his straw last night."

"I do it every two days," Ben replied, glancing at the horse.

"You have good hands and a knack for taking care of them," Alor said slowly. "Many men don't, you know. They only see them as weapons, much like their swords."

Ben thought about this as Alor rose and nodded at him to leave Fire Dancer for a while. Together, they went down the hall and Alor opened the door to the stall where the white foal was housed. Ben remembered the first time he had seen him, as pale as snow… He reached out and the foal neighed and butted him with his head in search of the apple it had started to consider its due. Alor laughed. "So, that's where the apples from the apple trees go," he said. "If you keep going like this, I'll cut your wages short."

Ben grinned. "I have no wages, Ser," he reminded him.

Alor smiled back. "That's because our steward and the man of coin started arguing about the sum," he said. "Finally, Lord Gargalen and I put an end to this. For three weeks, you've been accounted to receive a wage. You'll have it in another week."

"My lord father…" Ben started and paused, realizing that he had let his father talk about money and things without actually listening. He supposed Lord Rickard sent some sums for him to Alor but he didn't know the details. _He can rob me blind if he chooses to_ , he thought, furious at himself for being so nonchalant. Of course, Alor would never do such a thing but he could if he wanted to. Because Ben had not bothered to listen.

"If you work, you do get paid," Alor said calmly. "Slavery is not a thing in Westeros and I am not planning to revert to it with you. Of course, you'll start with the lowest wage. That's where I started from."

"For cleaning floors?" Ben asked before he could stop himself, and blushed.

Alor laughed. "That's right. And Lord Qorgyle insisted that I work for every coin I got – do not think there were any dragons! He figured that working might make us appreciate the work people do. And he was right." He looked at the foal. "Do you have such steed in the North?" he asked.

"No," Ben said. "Not this breed and this colour combined. And the breed – not at all," he added honestly, his hands itching to touch the mane – the closest thing to snow he had seen in months."

"Well, now you do," Alor said. "When you go back to Winterfell to visit, he'll be old enough for you to ride – or perhaps on your second visit. I believe you'll tend him well even in the snows that he won't be accustomed to."

Ben's heart started beating. "You want to give him to me?" he managed.

Alor nodded. "I am the one responsible for you now, aren't I? I've been watching you for a long time. You have a knack for horses. You'll be happy to make him yours long before he's old enough to be trained. And everyone here will know he's yours."

Ben looked away. The foal's hot breath lapped at his cheek. His hands went damp. The first thing here that would be truly his – and what a thing! He had been hearing about the sand steed since he had been a babe at arms. A sand steed of his own. One that had never known another rider. As pale as snow…

"What's his name?" he finally asked. "I never got around to asking."

Alor smiled and reached to stroke the pale back. "Alynna's Honour."

* * *

Ben soon got to know that the foal had been born in the dark days when Rhaegar Targaryen had dishonoured Lady Alynna, when he had left her and taken Lyanna after his lady wife had almost died to give him a son. Of course, he had known about the circumstances surrounding their elopement. Everyone did. And still, seeing the white foal made him truly feel, in a strange way, that Lady Alynna's honour had been trampled on – and Lyanna had been party to it.

Had she thought that Lady Alynna wouldn't care either way? Perhaps she had. When he stood before a very old portrait, the first one made on wood in Dorne, in the likeness of Lady Elana who had been Prince Maron Martell's companion for many years before he had wed Daenerys Targaryen, Ben couldn't help but feel that she might have been as taken by the reputation of Dornish men and women as he had been. Prince Maron had set aside his lifelong love for the wife he had married out of duty – Lyanna had been wrong if she had thought that Alynna Gargalen would expect anything less from her husband. But even the godswood, black and pulsating with dark life as Ben imagined it had been in the times of the First Men could give him no reply about this. What had Lyanna thought and planned? Ben despised himself for still caring when it was obvious that she didn't care about them at all. If she had, she would have at least sent a word from wherever she was now…

"Relax," Lady Loreza told him as they passed past the portrait and those thoughts against haunted him. "Let the music guide you."

She had harder time teaching him to dance than the master at arms teaching him his spearwork, for sure! Ben much preferred Lady Aelinor's lessons. When the older woman was in good frame of mind, she could show a bear how to dance, let alone Ben! Showing was what Lady Loreza failed at.

* * *

His new life provided him with experiences, images that would last till the end of his days. Not many, just a few, and not one that he could say at the moment would make such impression. Only when he saw the desert, he knew he would never forget it.

It… lived.

He had imagined a plane covered in sand but the moment their party left the seaside landscape behind and his eyes got accustomed to the red sands, he realized that what he was seeing was not a land covered in sand instead of earth. It was a world of sand, like some areas of the North were worlds cast of snow. Rocks, mountains that moved, dark green bushes springing from the red… Far on the left a small lake with blue water glistened enticingly, a few tall trees nearby reaching for the sky. The bright sun turned everything into molted fire and when Ben squinted, he realized that it was not his vision but the truth – and the wind. The dunes moved. Far in front of them and under their very horses, the sands were shifting and trying to swallow them whole but the steed were used to it. Born to it. For it. Instinctively, Ben reached to cover his face. Sand was likely as dangerous to the skin as salt. He grinned at himself and thought that his father would likely have been very pleased with him. He was starting to think like a Dornishman indeed!

Their stay at Sandstone gave him a glimpse at how Alor had been at his own age. A very wild boy. It was no wonder that he was so intent on watching Ben closely – he was probably determined to prevent all the things he had gotten away with at the time. All of them dangerous… And still, it was clear that Lord Qorgyle loved both him and his cousin Gillerd who had been no better. He even regretted Prince Oberyn's absence which made Lady Loreza smile her most patient smile. In Ben's opinion she, however, compensated for her half-brother's absence when in the evening, she tugged her husband to dance with her in one of the yards that were not paved. Ben watched them from the windows, grinning, but his smile quickly faded when she noticed him and waved him to come and join them. He did, reluctantly, but if he had known he would be expected to take Gillerd's place, he might have reconsidered.

At the end, he was certain that those who had not danced quick tunes in the red sands of Dorne knew nothing. Loreza was spinning him around like a whirlwind and before she took pity on him, they could both feel the sand sticking down their throats. She was laughing and so was he. Gillerd took his place back and kept twirling her around until they both felt lightheaded and fell in the sands. _I can live here,_ Ben realized with some wonder. _I can._ Unfortunately, the occupants of the castle begged to differ that same night when Ben unwittingly used the entire water supply of the castle for the day to take a bath, leaving everyone else to soak in their own sweat until the two great barrels could be refilled from the only well around – which could only happen in the next day.

Of course, by the time they returned to Salt Shore, water was one of the things Ben had learned not to take for granted.

* * *

Still, there was no denial that he was of the North. For all the good things he could say about his new life, it was overwhelming. Sometimes, he woke up and wondered what he was doing here. He, the Northerner. Sent away from the North, never to return. Being courted by a girl, as much as courting her. Fighting heat off in the day and relishing cold only at night. Toiling in salt mines. Guarding his words without even thinking about it because one ill-advised mentioning of Lyanna could get him back in the isolation he had first experienced. Despite everyone's effort to keep mum, he had some idea what they thought about her. There wasn't a single person in Salt Shore who didn't adore Lady Alynna. Sometimes, he just wanted to hide in his bed and not leave it for a few weeks… and then, of course, he left it to attend to his duties. Letters from home were so very rare and that only fed his detachment from Winterfell that filled him with horror. Sometimes, he spent all the time he had for himself into the dark patch of land overgrown with bushes and shielded from the sun by chestnuts, ashes, and even weirwoods, as wild and tall as they could be after the godswood had been abandoned. He always came back with clear head and peaceful heart.

It was not such a bad way to live, after all.

 


	8. In a Night of Summer Long

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for each and every comment!

"Waiting for the sea to get cold, are you?"

Ben shook his head. "Waiting for the sea to become less warm," he corrected and Lady Aelinor smiled. Today was one of her good days and Ben felt relieved that he wouldn't have to pretend all was fine and answer questions she was asking of people who were no longer there. At least she never took him for Maelys the Monstrous. It looked that the image of the two heads was stronger than the madness that squeezed and released her.

Around them, the Dornish summer was in its bloom… or the peak of its danger. Never, in the year that Ben had spent here, did he remember such heat. The sun sucked everything out of anything, leaving the land black and creaked, the skin so very hot, the plants withering, and the shadows crisp, brittle, and sharp. The godswood loomed, blackened and lonely, and Ben had to remind himself that while it was only his first summer here, it must be the godswood' s hundredth. Or thousandth. It would survive as it always had. Only the sea looked untouched. Not even the sun of south in the peak of summer could squeeze life out of it.

For someone who had grown up in the snows, it was more excruciating than the others, yet Ben couldn't help but smile upon seeing the very brightness all around. And at twilight, when the sea turned crimson rimmed white and the waves were not so hot anymore, he had a nice swim that made him feel fresh and fine with the world. Sometimes, he raced the other boys in the castle. Sometimes, he won.

"Are you going to come with us to Sunspear, my lady?" he asked. In a week, they were leaving for the fifth anniversary of the Princess of Dorne's death – a grand occasion that would summon many. But with Lady Aelinor, one could never say. She had been in her bad state for so long that she now had to be well enough… right?

She shook her head. "I prefer to stay here," she said.

You prefer not to be gawked at by everyone, Ben wondered. Dorne was used to her, more or less. But it wouldn't be just Dorne. "Perhaps your brother could keep you company when he arrives," he said, trying to cheer her up because the truth was, the gloom seizing her all of a sudden notwithstanding, Aelinor Gargalen was a woman of life and cheer. Sometimes, Ben imagined his mother had been like her, or perhaps his future good-greatgradmother.

"Carral will be in Sunspear," she said. "Even if he doesn't make it in time here, he will attend there. He promised."

"But the sea is not something to be relied on, my lady," Ben said. "He might be unable to keep this promise for reasons that do not depend on him."

Aelinor shook her head. "Not Carral. Not when it's Arianne's memory that's going to be honoured."

The late Princess had made her goodbrother head of the Dornish fleet when he had been very young yet – immediately after Lord Dayne had become incapacitated. Many had objected, Ben knew, and wondered if they would be as much against a Northerner taking the position as they had been against a mere boy, and the Princess' relation. Not that he had had even the slightest training. Not yet. Alor Gargalen would not hear of it. Not as long as Benjen was in his care. Sometimes, Ben felt that his knight-master was worse than Old Nan, with all her tales of doom!

Speaking of the wolf, so to say… "Are you going to have a soaking?" Alor asked, striding towards them. "Because it'll be dark soon."

"I know," Ben said. "I'm going."

Lady Aelinor, a smile on her lips, turned back but didn't make the remark like the one her daughter or Lady Loreza would have thrown casually – that they have seen men in their nudity already. Ben started undressing, trying not to show his insult. He could never get lost in the sea! And it was unfair of Alor to forbid him to go beyond the narrow cape two miles into the sea when he had competed to reach the small island a mile further when he had been Ben's age. Unfortunately, none of the other boys wanted to race Ben this far. He'd have to wait for Blaze to visit home. Right now, under Alor's eye, he only reached the end of the cape. Precisely.

Honour whinnied when he smelled Ben, even before he approached the stall and came into view. The youth reached out and touched his mane. "Now," he promised. "We're going out for a ride now."

At least riding in the evening was not forbidden! Ben got the foal ready soon enough and took him out… only to come against a wall of people pouring through the gates. He tugged the reins to move aside but something in the voices and accents made him stop dead in his tracks and the foal neigh with discontent. And then he spurred Honour forward, towards the people he had known for so many years, and in the torchlight he made out the familiar form of the leader and the fiery hair of the woman getting out of the wheelhouse.

"So," Brandon asked, grinning, "is this the famous Honour?"

Forgetting about his discontent, the foal whinnied and butted Brandon with his head, as if expecting a carrot.

"Traitor," Ben managed to say through a suddenly right throat.

"No," Brandon corrected, actually _producing_ the carrot. "He knows I'm yours."

* * *

"So," Brandon asked amidst the din and laughter of the evening feast, "when are you going to show me the desert?"

A quick look at Lady Catelyn's face told Ben that the answer she desired to hear was never, but Lord Gargalen said something else. "Immediately after departing from Sunspear, I guess," he said. "I don't need Alor here this urgently and unless the Princess Regent or Prince Doran have something in mind for him, he can have some time for himself." His face was still serious but his purple eyes gleamed and his mouth quirked in something Ben had learned to recognize as a smirk. "I insist to see Lord Qorgyle's face when he realizes he'll have four of you at the same time, though, I do."

Brandon did not understand. "Four of me?" he asked.

"No," Alor corrected. "Four of us. For some reason, my uncle thinks we're very much alike – you and me, and Gillerd and Oberyn."

"I remember," Brandon murmured and his face darkened. But there was no animosity about him. Somehow, the three black sheep had found and appreciated each other in no time at all. Ben felt sorry for his goodsister who looked so exhausted. Instead of having a few weeks of rest, she'd only have a few days before they left for Sunspear. She did not mind representing House Stark, along with Brandon, most likely. But she could do with some time doing nothing.

"Would you like to visit me as your husband visits Sandstone, Lady Catelyn?" Lady Gargalen asked and Ben saw how his goodsister's eyes went softer with relief. Still, she hesitated, almost looked at her left where Ben could hear Naeryn Sand's laughter and Lady Loreza's soft tones. For a fleeting moment, he wondered if she had caught Brandon looking. He _would_ look. Those two were among the most beautiful women in Dorne and despite Catelyn being on par with them in this regard, she did not have the sheer sensuality those two exuded without making any visible effort. Naeryn, in particular. Even Ben could feel it, although he did not feel attracted to either of them. Did Catelyn think Brandon felt this way?

Lady Isanne had also noticed. She smiled and said in an easy manner, "Please. Naeryn will stay in Sunspear and my goodaughter will likely leave with my son. Since my daughter and Alynna left, I've felt the absence of younger ladies quite acutely."

_And who is to blame for this,_ Ben thought. _Lady Loreza would be like a daughter to you if you'd only let her._ This thought startled him and he suddenly realized that while living with Dornish men and women, he had not only adopted some of their manners but much of the way they viewed the world.

Lady Isanne's thoughts seemingly ran down the same path. "And besides, I'd love to have someone who comes from lands closer to my homeland. I've lived in Dorne for so long that sometimes, I forget where I came from."

Catelyn's smile conveyed her answer before her lips did. Brandon looked both relieved and annoyed but he didn't say anything. Not at the table.

* * *

"She isn't pleased with you going," Ben remarked when, after making sure that his lady wife was comfortably settled in their chambers, Brandon had come to Ben's own chamber. The one that had used to be Blaze's.

His brother shrugged. "She doesn't understand what the appeal of a mass of sand might be," he said.

Ben laughed because a few years ago, he had wondered the very same thing. Of course, Brandon could not go all the way to Dorne without seeing the land of sand himself, even if only to get disappointed. "I'd love to show it to Robb as soon as he's capable to sit a camel without falling," Ben said. "If I don't see he has fallen in just a few moments, the sand will bury him under."

Not terribly concerned with his son's possible demise, Brandon stared at him, eyes wide. "A camel," he echoed and then became serious. "Why don't you tell me about your first visit to this place of sands now? And the Tor? I did stop there on my way to Salt Shore. Is this fair-haired girl truly your betrothed? She doesn't look like her mother at all but she looks like a very nice girl. Do you truly work in the salt mines? It sounds incredible to me."

Ben grinned and finally started talking. Brandon stared at him intently and listened even more intently. Now, _this_ was incredible. He laughed with Ben when Ben told him how strange the fruit growing practically on the roads of the Reach had looked to him. How Lady Sarra had let Robert let her win without him knowing that she had let him let her. About the monster with many bellies that had turned out to be the salt mines. Hoe Blaze had found himself without a bedchamber – without _this_ bedchamber and how furious he had been. How excited he had been for his first runes punishment – for about an hour. Ben laughed heartily, remembering how Doran Martell, the ever so calm Prince of Dorne had rushed out of his solar and ran upstairs to rein his father in after he had realized that Lord Fowler and Lord Alric were in the same chamber without anyone else there to pry them apart. What about Ben's own first visit to Sandstone! In the first day of his second one he had found two basins in the baths, to make sure that there would be some water supply after him. And he finished with a long tirade about what a hard work mining was.

"So, life here isn't too bad, right?" he asked when Ben finally ran out of breath and reached for his water. There was tension in his eyes that had not been his common expression since Ben could remember.

"Better than "not bad"," Ben assured him and smiled. "I feel great here."

"Do you?" Brandon asked seriously.

Ben's smile faded. "When there are new people and they realize who I am, they look at me with amazement," he said. "And not much liking. And there are those who believe quite the tales of the North and I have to set things right. But that's about it. This – and the fact that the Lord Admiral won't take me to teach me the marine craft and I do wish to become a sailor."

Now, his brother gave him a look as if he thought Ben had lost his mind. "Do you want to?" he asked. " _Why_ , by the gods?"

Ben shrugged. "I like what he does," he said. "I'm planning to be his successor one day."

His brother looked as if he'd been hit by a brick. Ben pushed his own goblet towards him and Brandon grimaced when he realized it was full of water. None of them had seen much of the sea and Brandon's contact with it and what little Brandon had seen of it while in Barrowtown, he did not like. Before coming here, Ben had only seen see at White Harbor and had not felt attracted to it either. The fact that he had only seen trading ships while Carral Gargalen commanded a real fleet had likely contributed to the attraction.

"Don't worry," Ben said. "He won't have me. He says it's too dangerous and I'm clearly too precious and too young to risk."

The sarcasm in his voice was such that his brother looked away and thought twice before saying that yes, Ben _was_ too precious to risk and too young to know his own mind.

"I'm pleased," Brandon said instead, simply, and Ben could see the burden of an old guilt lifting off his shoulders. "When we first sent you here, I hoped you could fare but even in my wildest dreams dared I hope you'd thrive so well." He smiled. "You've grown up."

Ben took back the loathed goblet and drank. He was glad to have his brother here. He was pleased to see his father showing respect and wish for closer ties by honouring the occasion that meant much to Dorne. And he was quite surprised to see Brandon not reacting with his usual lack of forethought once.

"You've grown up too, Brandon," he finally said. "You've grown up too."

* * *

**So, this is the chapter that was supposed to be about Sunspear and feature Alynna for the first time in this fic. Here goes my planning…**

 


	9. Sunspear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who commented!

The court arrived in splendour that was delightful to watch, all in gold, silks, furs and feathers, and gleaming steel. The attires of the ladies made them glitter like some bright, exotic birds as they fluttered around the halls and jasper yards of the Old Palace, not leaving a single corner deserted and making the servants' tasks more complicated as they had to rise earlier or stay later, let alone all the time they wasted as they had to navigate their way around the ladies' gowns without splashing them with water or something.

"They seemed to have forgotten that they are here to honour an anniversary of a death," Blaze commented.

"That's because they aren't here for this," Ben replied wisely. "They're here to show off their new gowns and have something to talk about for years to come."

But the diversity of the lords who had come from all over the Seven Kingdoms to show their respect to the dead woman whom they have all badmouthed with relish showed just how far the Princess Regent's politics of peace and reconciliation had worked. Mace Tyrell was here, with his nice wife and less than nice mother who nonetheless found her match in the old Lady Gargalen, a princess of House Targaryen; Hoster Tully had also made the journey and Robert Baratheon seemed fascinated with the way his lady wife showed him the places of her youth and relayed occurrences from her childhood in Sunspear. He even accompanied her to the Water Gardens well before Prince Doran invited all the newcomers to visit. The Hand of the King had stayed at King's Landing to keep things under control but his heir was here. The Master of Coin, Tywin Lannister, looked as grim as usual but he had come.

"They say he wanted to make his daughter Prince Rhaegar's wife," Catelyn said soflty, by the way of explanation when Brandon remarked on the man one night in their solar. "No wonder that he isn't fond of the Princess."

"But he came anyway," Brandon said. "And everyone says he's very good at what he does."

"Of course he is," Catelyn replied. "His pride wouldn't let him fail. And it won't do him any good anyway. Because I am sure the King's mother checks his work constantly."

"Oh, he hates me," Lady Alynna confirmed casually when Blaze asked her about that – they had agreed that Ben shouldn't be the one to do this. "But he's a very capable man. He'll take what he can get."

"Do you not fear him?" Blaze pressed.

Just for a moment, her face crumbled. "I fear many things," she said, "and Tywin Lannister is one of them." She paused and smiled. "But he fears me as well."

In this, Ben could well believe. In the few precious moments when he spotted Lord Tywin stare at the Princess when he thought himself unobserved, Ben could recognize the feeling pouring out of those green eyes: hatred, bottomless and helpless hatred.

Still, Lady Alynna seemed to trust Ser Jaime Lannister, the youngest Kingsguard, with not only her life but her secrets. He was never asked to do his duty from the other side of the door and the Princess Regent could actually be found in his company even when he was not on duty. The two of them often sat together over a glass of iced wine, Ser Arthur joining them, and Ben could hear the whispers how the two Dornish people must be corrupting the young lion but those were faint compared to the general content with the situation most people displayed. Lady Alynna's peace could actually work… and he quickly learned to dismiss little clashes as unimportant.

What actually surprised him a little was the fact that Lady Anessa Blackmont who in the last year had accompanied Lord Alric anywhere stayed a little away and no longer slept in his chambers. Somehow, he had not expected it and it only came to show how much of what Dorne thought of as South still remained in him – that he had expected them not to understand this basic decency.

"I hope life at court will do Ilana some good," was all Catelyn said to show her attitude to the morals in the Old Palace, although she followed Lady Isanne's lead and was never discourteous to the paramour that even Prince Doran treated with great respect. "Her mother's ladies may set a good example. She's growing up."

Why don't I see it, Ben wondered. At eleven, Ilana didn't seem any taller than she had at eight. He did not realize that he had grown up, too, so he couldn't see her growth. But for all her ladylike manners, she was still a child. He expected those who were ladies to be – well, ladies. But what he knew about young ladies? Lyanna had never been one. The ladies at Salt Shore were all older than him, even Alor's betrothed at Sandstone, albeit just by two years. Celedra was as ladylike as they came but she was no lady. All Ben could see were purple eyes, long hair of silver and gold that made her look even smaller, and tiny hands with too slender fingers. He could not imagine that he'd bed her one day. To him, she looked just the same. And at this meeting, she inspired the same fierce protectiveness in him that he had thought lost after the first time. She looked afraid of going near her mother, let alone leaving Dorne with her. But he couldn't ask her – it was too personal and even if she said she didn't want to go, what could Ben do? Stand against both the Princess Regent and her goodmother to save her? His helplessness made him irrationally angry at her whenever he felt pity at watching her watch her mother and trying to remember… But he could say that she did not.

It was a few days after the anniversary when he escaped from Sunspear to the Water Gardens, almost empty now. "For how long are you off duty?" he called out as he raced Blaze down the winding seaside road.

"Three days," the other boy called back and grinned. "Oberyn talked to Ellaria who talked to her father and here I am."

"Lucky you," Ben murmured. He had to be back the day after tomorrow and not an hour late – and he wanted to have a rest from everything. Even Brandon!

In the private residence, Elia Hightower's son was playing in the pools, immediately recognizable by his skin, much fairer than the rest of the children's but still not as fair as Ben's own… he thought. It was hard to say under the bronze layer sun had lent him. The sun had warmed the blood oranges and Ben felt their aroma of exhausted sweetness. Soon, they'll have a slightly bitter taste from all that richness, he thought as he wandered up and down paths well-trodden by human feet and before him, the setting sun swallowed the flaming balls of the fruit in its own flaming embrace.

Something white caught his eye; he bent over and realized it was one of the shawls women used to protect themselves from the worst of the heat. As much as it had defied logic at first, in Ben's mind, it had turned out to be a very practical approach indeed – the fine cloth prevented the sun from burning one's skin to blisters. And this particular shawl was very fine indeed. Curious, Ben looked around, wondering how the owner could have missed the escaping of the fabric. The beat of the sun should have shown it to her as soon as she emerged from the grove. He kept walking to the last pool – smallish and different in shape to all the other of the waterworks. It was oval and under the red sunset, reminded nothing as much as a tear.

They were lying there, on the marble floor at the very edge of the pool. Ben asked, recognizing them as the sun finally sank into the sea and he drew back, as startled as he had never been before. Lady Alynna and her cousin Errol Gargalen. None of them spoke – they were both staring in the sky, dark rose and spattered with violet clouds.

Ben's first instinct was to escape before they saw him. But something stronger kept him frozen on the spot and a moment later, made him steal behind a blood orange tree. His fluster grew.

Errol rose on his elbow and drew a finger down Alynna's profile. "I'm glad we could escape," he said. "You needed this respite."

She turned his face towards him. "I did," she said. Her voice was tired and dead, nothing like the façade she presented to the assembled world every day. "And I think the children will be glad to have some time apart from me."

The children? The little King was everyone's darling. He looked content enough… no, she meant her older children. So she had noticed their reticence? Ben was a little surprised.

Errol stroked her face and neck. "They don't know you yet, Alynna," he said. "This will change."

"When?" she asked bitterly. "In a year? In ten years? When they can feel me like their mother again? When is this going to be?"

At this moment, she looked as helpless as her daughter, and Ben's anger at her melted away.

"Stop it!" Errol said angrily, sitting up. Shocked, Ben saw that his tunic was open. "Are you going to sit around feeling sorry for yourself? This isn't the life Myles wanted for you… and it isn't the life I want for you either! He looked happier as the ship went down than you do now, when you'll finally have the children back with you for some time at least!"

Alynna's mouth trembled and Errol swore and wrapped an arm about her. She pushed it away angrily and rose… and Ben gasped. He had never seen a naked woman before. Sure, he and Celedra had been close to doing it a few times. Pressed by the other boys' questions, he had boasted that of course he had done it with a girl but that was all. He stared at Alynna's small waist and ample bosom, the wide hips and the slightly hanging belly covered in small silver lines like jumping fishes, the dark tips of her breasts, the long dark hair covering her partly from view and rising like a shield between her and Errol. The slight breeze moved it and Ben realized that it was… alive. Whispering. Moving. Alynna moved as well, naked and lovely, and shook away Errol's arm; looking around, Ben saw different items of clothing lying around. His face burned and he was grateful… displeased… that he had been late.

Displeased? Weren't there enough servant-maids here? In Sunspear and Salt Shore? Or had Celedra suddenly grown ugly, so he had to give the eye… to his future goodmother?

Errol was saying something to Alynna, so softly that Ben couldn't hear it. But he could see her body's answers clearly enough: she rejected his words, she fought them, she conceded defeat. Tremors ran down her body as she looked up, seeking his eyes. He wrapped her up in his arms again and laid her on the tunic that he hurriedly pulled off. Ben wanted to look away and couldn't. Alynna was the most beautiful of women not only to Errol's infatuated eyes – she was indeed very beautiful.


	10. Grey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who commented!

Ben had hoped for four days before being discovered. He got two before someone heard something – what it was, Ben would never know. What he knew for sure was that he had not heard the opening of the door, the storm howled and raged so much, so he had felt no pressing need to stay unmoving, something that was quite hard anyway with the ship being tossed this way and that. At one point, Ben seriously considered praying to the Drowned God but then someone pushed aside the high piles of gleaming weapons that he was hiding behind and stared at him, shocked. Ben stared back, and then the sailor turned on his heel and disappeared in a moment. Ben had barely had the time to absorb the fact that he had been caught when the hatch opened again and Alor leaped down without using the ladder. Ben rose and wasn't surprised when Alor slapped him, first thing of all. He had never done this before and oh, Ben had never realized just how callused his hand was.

"Do you know what you did, Benjen?"

"Yes," Ben replied.

"No, you don't!"

Ben made no reply and didn't look away from him, although light of the torch in Alor's hand hurt his eyes. But a moment later, Alor came to realize it because he looked around to find a hold, realized that in the storm, there was no sure place to put it, and told Ben to look away.

"Why, Benjen? You've never done something this stupid before!"

"You've never left me behind before. You're supposed to help me grow into a man, right, Ser? How am I going to do this if you keep me away from wars?"

Alor clearly disagreed with this reasonable line of thought but then, Ben had not really expected that he wouldn't. If he had agreed, Ben would have boarded _Arianne_ with him openly.

"Rebellion," he corrected. "And I am also supposed to keep you alive until you become a man because the bloody peace in the bloody Seven Kingdoms depends on it! You're supposed to live to wed my niece, remember?"

"My lord father would have expected of me to come with you," Ben said. "The Greyjoys are worse than their krakens, he says…"

"I'll make sure to ask him in person when we meet with the Manderly fleet," Alor said drily. "He'll be there."

Ben swallowed. While it was true that Lord Rickard would have expected of Alor to take Ben along, he would have not expected of Ben to defy orders…

The ship was getting increasingly steady. The storm had started to quiet. The hatch opened once again and down came Carral Gargalen, the head of the Dornish navy and Master of the Ships of King Aegon, the Sixth of His Name, and Lord Qorgyle. They both stood silently and watched but while Carral's face was impassive, there was a definite grin on the desert man's. "My young avenger," he said contentedly looking at Ben, and Alor glared at both.

"How did you do it anyway?" he asked. "I can swear I saw you at the tower when we left."

"You saw someone at the tower, clearly," Carral said, giving his son a stern look. "What I am more interested in is how you managed to get in here. Was the night guard asleep?"

Ben's feeling of triumph – why, they were too far from the shore to return so he was going to war – quickly turned to fear. He had never stopped to think how his actions could affect someone else. As glad as he was that the conversation had veered away from Blaze, he now realized that he had brought trouble upon the heads of the men who had guarded the ship. "The fault doesn't lie with them," he said quickly. "I am fast and agile. They couldn't have turned back in time to…"

"That's their last time at a ship under my command," Carral said.

Ben almost groaned and even Alor seemed disturbed. "Everyone here had been serving ably for years," he told his father. "Doesn't this fact mean anything to you?"

"Yes. It means that for years, I've been lucky. I no longer trust them. Sleeping on their post… or not making sure that no one had boarded while they were away… anyway, letting a boy of seventeen best them isn't the mark of a good sailor. I will not have them. Next time, they might sleep through a vessel coming right towards us. No."

Horrified, Ben opened his mouth to interject but Lord Qorgyle caught his eye and firmly shook his head. Ben changed his mind mid-breath. He'd try to make Carral understand later.

"So," Lord Qorgyle said, changing the subject, for which Ben was very grateful, "what are we going to do with him? Surely we cannot spare the time to take him back?"

"No," Carral said grimly.

"I'll tell you what!" Alor's anger had grown in inverse proportion to the storm. "My ward clearly feels good in the hold. I'll leave him here."

 _Not fair_ , Ben thought as the men went out. But he was prudent enough not to voice it.

* * *

 

Next step in approaching his first war – well, rebellion, since Alor would not accord the Greyjoys the greater definition – was no more glamorous than the first one. The day he was allowed to leave the hold and be present at the discussion about the battle plans which ended up with Alor being told to leave by Lord Qorgyle – for cutting into his words and saying that doing something else was a better option! Ben thought that was the entire purpose of a meeting – to make suggestion and discuss plans?

"Trying to take all the islands at once would be a study in uselessness," Alor insisted. "This way, we'd scatter our forces that aren't too big to begin with and make all of them weaker! If we still had the Lannister fleet…"

"Well, I guess we can use some burned wood from the debris," someone said and Carral's face became grim. He was no longer charming, affectionate, amusing as Ben had seen him with his family. Instead, he wore an expression quite similar to Ben's father's when faced with something distasteful.

"We don't have the Lannister fleet," Alor went on, "and as good as our own Dornish navy is, it's small which affects the support we can offer the royal navy. Balon had been building his Iron Fleet for years. If we deplete our forces, we might as well hand them over to him. It'll be the peak of thoughtlessness…"

"Yes, we got your opinion, boy," Lord Qorgyle interjected. "No need to enlarge upon it. Now, you can go out and return when your head has deflated enough to be contained in this cabin!"

To Ben's amazement, even some of those who had been nodding at Alor's arguments, looked stern. Carral's face was stony and Alor's burned bright when he rose and headed for the door. Ben expected that he'd slam it behind him but Alor had enough self-control to close it softly.

"We should meet them at Fair Isle," Lord Qorgyle said as soon as Alor was out. "There is indeed no use to try and conquer all the islands at once. The Pyke should be our purpose. That's where Balon will be."

Moments ago, Alor had said literally the same thing! Why, then, had this drama taken place at all? Ben asked Alor as they were leaving for the supper Carral was giving for his officers and his temporary guests.

"Because I made an unforgivable mistake," Alor said curtly. "It doesn't matter that I was right. One should never show disrespect to the man who taught him. Of course, my loose tongue got me into a situation where I looked grasping, greedy, and trying to shine at his expense. He did many things for me but he couldn't teach me to not be, well, me."

"Never show disrespect," Ben repeated. "I'll remember."

The look Alor gave him was now different, softer, with shades of something like regret. "I hope you do," he said.

* * *

 

Amidst the burning ruins of the Pyke, Rickard Stark smiled when he read the Princess Regent's letter. Tywin Lannister might be disgruntled, or it might be just Ben imagining things. Still, he supposed the Lion of Lannister had wanted to take the youngest Greyjoy boy as a ward and hostage himself. Instead, this power and prestige had gone to House Stark, as the honour of the great match had. Ben and Blaze amused themselves by counting the men who looked disappointed and mildly or not so mildly envious of this so harmonious relationship. Better than counting the number of them they had killed or the corpses lying all around, although both of them had taken part in digging the pits for mass graves before diseases from the corpses could spread. Despite the cold permeating every bit of the landscape, every bone of the body even with Ben, they could not be contained forever.

"You're dishonouring my men," Balon Greyjoy said, watching them, and they shared a look, truly astounded that he knew the word dishonour. His version of honour certainly did not include working to keep his surviving men, women, and children safe, as he made no attempt to help with the pits, just watched those who worked.

"The fact that you're without your chains is dishonour, Greyjoy, and that's the truth of it," Lord Rickard snapped as he came near. "How is the fair-haired one?" he turned to the boys. "Errol?"

He paid no more attention to the defeated King of the Iron Islands and Balon looked murderous for the offense. His loss, his sons' deaths, the near ruining of his castle, the chains he had worn had not softened him one bit. He still looked as grim and death-promising as this vast, desolate grey sky of his and Ben was equally impressed and revolted.

Ben glanced at Blaze and saw how his friend looked down to hide his face. But his voice sounded steady. "He's getting better."

You make a good liar, Ben thought and indeed, when after working their arms off they went into their allotted quarters, they were told that it was still a toss. Ben saw Errol for a moment, unconscious, with the blood turning the bandages around his arm red and soaking. He could lose the arm, the maesters said. He could still lose his life…

"He won't," Carral said firmly but his eyes betrayed him. The horror. "It won't happen again. Not on my watch."

By now, Ben knew enough of Salt Shore to know what he was talking about. "Lady Alynna's first husband died as you all watched, didn't he?" he asked Alor who would not look away from his cousin's face as if he could make him better with sheer willpower.

Alor nodded. "We were in the sea, we were returning from the Tyrosh. The storm came all of a sudden… and it could not be withstood. It was so fierce that it demolished stone houses in the mainland. We were all trying to survive and keep her above water, wet and determined, and terrified. And Myles was happy because Alynna and Ilana had been supposed to come with us but she discovered that she was with child again. We were cursing and clinging to the ropes and he was grinning and claiming that he was ravenous. He was so joyful that I thought for sure he had lost his wits." He paused. "He told me that we'd drink to their absence as soon as we got that bitch of a storm under control… and then a great wave sent him crashing straight into the starboard. He was dead before it even withdrew."

He was still staring at Errol, his face grey. "I couldn't face her if… Not again. Not again."

His absent-minded voice, the lack of any realization of what he had said as if it should have been obvious made Ben feel uncomfortable. In the last few months, his attraction to Alynna had not abated. He had been thinking of her even when he finally did it with a girl but now he realized how ridiculous it all was. Had he really imagined that one day, she might reciprocate his infatuation? He might still prefer to take her to wife and not her daughter if given the chance but she only saw him as a promise of peace and perhaps Ilana's future. A boy. I am no wiser than Lya, it seems, Ben thought. Alynna was happy with Errol Gargalen, stolen happiness as it was. He panicked just when he thought of what he might have done when into his cups… or a moment of madness.

"He'll be fine," Ben finally said. "Soon."

"Yes," Alor said slowly. "He will. And then, many things will change, I think. That's what my sister wants."

For a moment, his eyes turned to Ben and the boy recoiled. They were defiant, regretful… and a little scared.


	11. Harsh Truths

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who commented!

“Are you going to stay here, or would you rather come with me when I move out?”

 Startled, Ben looked up from the sword he was polishing. Alor sat down next to him and nodded that Ben should keep working. Ben obeyed, surprised that such a question could even be asked.

 “I am your…” And he fell silent. He was not a ward because Alor was no lord; he was no squire because he was not going to become a knight, not while following the old gods and he was not about to give them up. Somewhere along the long road he was still walking, he had come to think of himself as something between a cherished friend and a troublesome younger brother to this knight who reminded his own brother so very much. “I belong with you,” he finally said. “I go where you go.”

 For a while, Alor stared at him and then a smile broke out. “I thought you might prefer to stay here, where you’re used to the way of life. That’s where my father lives when he isn’t at sea and since you’re going to travel with him, I thought you might like to live where he lives.”

 Ben’s heart started thumping all of a sudden. “You mean that –?”

 Alor nodded. “I gave you all that I could. You no longer need me. And while you must stay in Dorne, as you understand, you’re no longer under my tutelage. You’ll be an honoured guest, be it here at Salt Shore or my new home. Here. Take this.”

 He took the steel Ben had just polished – a new blade, shiny and extremely supple, hammered to perfection by the old smith who had been taking care of the weapons of the men as Salt Shore long before Alor’s birth. ‘It’s yours,” he said simply. “You proved yourself in the Battle of Pyke and after.”

 Heart hammering, Ben took the blade. A sword of his own. That meant…

 “You are a man now,” Alor said simply. “And not just because of your age. I’m pleased that you chose me.”

 The very next month, Alor would take Lord Qorgyle’s daughter to wife but Ben had been quite surprised to hear that they were moving out. He now said this much to Alor.

 “I thought you’d live here,” he said. “That’s what your father does and the Lord Admiral has had many opportunities to start a household of his own.”

 Alor shrugged. “The very idea of being a mistress of a household, no matter how small, terrifies my mother. But my lady is different.”

 The notion that anyone would balk at the idea of having a home of their own was unfathomable to Ben. Having grown with the knowledge that he was a liability that would need accommodations one day had made him desire something of his own so very much. Was this the reason he had gotten used to his new life so fast?

 Alor’s perceptivity to his needs had helped, no doubt. Once again, Ben was surprised by the harmony between his own experiences and Alor’s answer – without even knowing that he was answering them!

 Unbidden, the thought of Lady Alynna sneaked again into Ben’s mind. How had she been able to make a home at Dragonstone when she had been raised by a mother who balked at the thought of a home of her own? His admiration of her grew.

 The sun was slowly going down, giving Salt Shore one last caress before sinking against the sea. Beyond the castle walls, the hill with the godswood rose dark and forbidding. In the beginning, it had helped Ben feel less lonely and over time, he had come to feel it almost like a friend. But since his return from the Pyke, sleeping there had started giving him nightmares! The bloodied past of this land played before him, reminding him what a fragile thing peace was. What a dangerous place he had found himself in – well, it was no more dangerous than any other part of Westeros, he reckoned, but it wasn’t the past of those other parts that he saw, it was this one. Some time away from the castle and the godswood might do him lots of good.

 “Did you know that you’d wed Lady Simala?” Ben asked curiously. “When you were living at Sandstone?”

 Alor smiled. “You do realize that she’s ten years younger than me, right? When I went to live there, she was not even born yet.”

 At least Ben would not have to wait for ten years! Although it wasn’t Ilana that he truly wanted… “It’s so strange,” he said. “Talking about weddings and so on. Just a few months later, there was a rebellion against the Crown.”

“Yes,” Alor agreed and something in his voice made Ben squint at him. “Everything looks steady right now and my sister has made some decisions.”

 “What’s new about it?” Ben jested. “I would start worrying if she ever _stops_ making decisions. I think I can safely guess she wasn’t expected this early, though, of course, she would have wanted to come for the wedding.”

 For a while, Alor kept his silence as he busied himself with lighting the candles, nodding at Ben not to help him. From the opened window they could hear the fading sounds of activity from the courtyard. Ben wondered when Alor would finally speak. He wanted to hear whatever the man had to tell him and then go the feast. Tomorrow, he’d go down, in the mines, and he had long found out that a good meal the night before could make the difference between a day spent working and the work actually done during this day.

 “Alynna has finally decided what to do with Rhaegar and your sister,” Alor finally said, looking Ben straight in the eye.

 Ben wasn’t impressed. “Yes, I know they’re lucky that they never came back,” he said. “Don’t tell me that she _still_ intends to kill them?”

 He harboured little to no doubt that for a while, this had been Lady Alynna’s truest wish but he’d be genuinely surprised if she still felt this way. Of course, she might end up being forced to do exactly this if they were foolish enough to return but he didn’t think she’s want to start this way. She wasn’t this vicious and it would help her and her son not at all. Rather, it would _harm_ their cause.

 Alor shook his head. “You did not understand me, Ben. I am not telling you that Alynna has decided what she _would_ do with them. I’m telling you she knows what she _will_ do.”

 Again, Ben squinted at him, trying to figure out what he meant and failing. Alor watched him expectantly but there was something slightly off about his steady expression.

 “What,” Ben finally asked, “what do you mean?”

 “Rhaegar Targaryen and your sister are in our hands, Benjen.”

 “Since when?” Ben asked, astounded. “No one has heard anything about them coming back–“

 “They never left,” Alor said. “They’ve been here all the time.”

 Ben swallowed. “Why don’t you tell me what you want to from the very beginning? Because I sure don’t understand anything!”

 Alor did so without hesitation and very little willingness – and Ben’s world fell apart.

 “You took her prisoner? And let everyone believe that she had run away to Essos?”

 His voice was accusing but Alor didn’t flinch away. “She _did_ run away. She _was_ headed for Essos. We just intercepted her before she reached her destination.”

 “And then you used her captivity to seize the crown for yourselves.”

 Alor shrugged. “If this helps, I assure you that we would have done the same even if she hadn’t fallen into our hands. Alynna was done with being thrown this way and that because of Rhaegar’s whims. He had just proven himself untrustworthy. We used your sister’s actions to secure the crown. May I remind you that whatever befell her, she brought it upon herself? It wasn’t us who went to Winterfell to seek her out, it was her who chose to throw her lot with my sister’s husband.”

 Ben laughed angrily. “She chose to? You think that at fourteen, one can make a _choice_?”

 “What I think is that at fourteen, one can ruin other people’s lives. Or do you think your father and brother would have been less dead because your sister couldn’t have actually made the choice she _did_?”

 This reminder of the most horrific days of Ben’s life made him pause. There had been this week when he had thought they were all dead – his father, Brandon, Ned. And still, and still… Lyanna was not a lady made for dwelling in a tower. Only the old gods knew what all this time languishing there had _done_ to her. “You let everyone believe that she just left without caring about anything.”

 Alor sighed. “How did she do anything different? Do you really think we should have let them go their merry way and wait for their return to find out if Alynna would be set aside and her children disinherited for your sister and hers?”

 Something in his composure made Ben want to hit him. Alor was never this controlled. Calm did not come natural to him and Ben could see that he was anything but calm right now. He wanted to shake this steadiness out of him because it forced him to be reasonable and steady, too, when he wanted to yell and hit the man in front of him. “Lyanna would have never done such a thing!”

 “If you say so.”

 The doubt in Alor’s voice made Ben clench his teeth.

 “I suppose you, as the new Lord Stark, would have never supported such a bid either?”

 Ben opened his mouth and then closed it again. Noticing that, Alor nodded. “Ah, I see. You think we should have changed one thing – letting your sister go to Essos with Rhaegar – but not the rest. In other words, my lady mother should have still saved your father and brother. Aren’t you the humblest person ever?”

 Ben had achieved some success in forcing Alor out of his self-possession but he liked not what Alor was turning the conversation into. “I am not saying this,” he said, unconvincingly, because he was. The realization that he was trying to turn the past into what should have been for House Stark and every one of his members made him blush. He was acting like a child, demanding for the world to be arranged to his liking! “You could have let her go when the Iron Throne was secure,” he said because this, at least, could have been done.

 “Did you forget that we _did_? Or do you suggest that we should have let her go as soon as Aegon was crowned, to walk around and expose our ruse? Do you think we should have risked a rebellion years before the Greyjoy one for the sake of a girl who showed no concern about anyone and anything save for her own desires?”

 “This isn’t fair!” Ben said angrily. “She might have made a mistake…”

 A part of him wondered what he was doing. Alor wasn’t saying anything Ben had not been thinking himself. He _still_ did think it… but no one had said it in his presence for years.

 “Indeed she might have,” Alor agreed. “That’s why she’s still alive and treated well, instead of what a woman grown in her place would have received.”

 “I wonder why you didn’t just have her killed in secret,” Ben spat.

 “I did consider this possibility and discussed it with my sister, believe me.”

Stunned, Ben could only state. He had not expected _this_.

 “Let’s be clear,” Alor went on. “I am sorry for having to lie to you, although it was necessary. But I don’t feel we owe your sister anything. In fact, I believe Alynna treated her far more benevolently than Lady Lyanna deserved, given the fact that what she and Rhaegar did could have easily cost Alynna and her children their very lives and sparked a war that was narrowly avoided. Mind you, we all know who is more to blame. It doesn’t change the fact that she chose freedom with someone who was not free to offer it to her. And as little as she owed Alynna at the time, her actions made it sure that her well-being was not a primary concern of Alynna’s or any of us, as much as it might have been yours, had you known.”

Would it have been? As furious as Ben was with Lady Alynna and Alor for keeping Lya prisoner no matter what, he couldn’t help but remember those terrible days… His father’s return, so broken and shamed. All those dead men…

 “You could have stopped it,” he finally said. “By producing them…”

 Alor laughed incredulously. “So it’s now our fault that your father chose to answer Aerys’ summons before we even knew he had made them? Everyone but your sister is to blame? She’s now a saint because she was stopped before she managed to lead her plans to their end? We are the ones who should have fulfilled House Stark’s duty to protect their bannermen – and done so only in a way that did not inconvenience Lyanna Stark in the slightest?”

 Those hadn’t been _her_ plans. Ben had told himself this so many times over the years and it had never helped much. It didn’t help now either. He stared at Alor, finally realizing what the real matter was. “You _lied_ to me. I- I trusted you and you’ve been keeping such a secret from me.”

 In the candlelight, Alor’s face looked even sharper. Over the years, his cheeks only seemed to get gaunter, although he was never the one to starve. His eyes  were black and narrowed, like a hawk intent on its prey. And then, they softened. “I have,” he said. “And I’ve come to regret this necessity. Over time, you became very dear to me. But I couldn’t trust you with this.”

 This, Ben did not doubt. He was aware that he was the only one of House Stark that Alor cared about. The reverse was not true… and they had all lied to him. “Does everyone knows?” he asked. “Them at the Tor also?”

 Alor shook his head and a smile tugged the corners of his mouth. “What have I taught you about secrets? While Alynna’s goodmother and goodbrother are dear to her, she’d rather not have them in possession of too much information. One should only know as much as they need to do their part well.”

 Of course they wouldn’t have told the Jordaynes. The memory of how affected they had been at Lady Alynna’s distrust rose to Ben’s mind and he wondered if they’d be this insulted again, should he choose to tell them her secret. He said this much to Alor who finally lost it and made a step towards him, his hand raised before stopping him with the utmost effort.

 “By the Seven, how I understand Lord Qorgyle now!” he muttered, bringing his arm down inch by inch. “I must think of a splendid gift indeed, though nothing could ever compensate him…”

 Then, he looked at Ben. “Looks I didn’t achieve as much as I hoped with you,” he finally said. “Looks like your sister isn’t the only spoiled Stark mutt who would saw discord and divide families, and start wars because she thinks everything in the world is about her.”

 All the regrets had gone out of his eyes. Instead, there was something else there – disappointment, as deep as Ben’s own disappointment with him.

 “I guess you’ll now want to leave with her, should she choose to return to the North to whimper at your father how cruel we were to her? Or if she decides to leave with the man she wanted more than any honour, any sympathy, any lives in your family, you’d demand justice in her stead?”

 For the first time, Ben saw Alor’s enormous capacity for cruelty unleashed upon him. “No,” he spat. “For now,” he elaborated. “But since I don’t want to see you anymore right now, I’m leaving for the Tor this very night.”

 “Tonight?” Alor echoed. “Wouldn’t you like to stay and make sure that we haven’t done anything terrible to our captive, like starving her or something?”

 Right now, Ben did not feel like seeing Lya either. “She can find me there,” he said shortly. “That’s, if she chooses to go back home. As you said, she may still choose Rhaegar.”

  _And leave with him without bothering to see me,_ his mind helpfully supplied. After all, she had chosen to spend a few years without seeing him once, right? He slammed the door behind him and felt a grim pleasure at the startled squeal that arose behind one of the other doors, although he couldn’t say which one.

 

 


	12. Old Sins Cast Long Shadows

The journey left Ben almost hallucinating but Honour held on till the end, defending the - well, honour of sand steeds. Because Lady Alynna who the young steed was named for had none of it. _Alynna's Honour_ , Ben repeated in his head and sometimes aloud when he was in danger of falling asleep. _Just Honour._

He arrived in the Tor in the bright sunlight of another day of heat, so unlike the weather he had grown up in. Lady Jordayne went out to meet him and her face changed. Later, Ben realized that she must have thought that something had happened to the children that had gone to Salt Shore to see their mother, and for the first time felt something akin to shame for not bothering to tell Ilana what was going on, why he had to leave. The gods, old and new, knew that her mother and uncles wouldn't tell her! Not the truth, anyway.

He stared at Lady Sabella, wondering if he should tell her how her goodaughter had deceived her. But it felt cheap. And if he did it now, he'd only look like the boy bristling at shadows and as impulsive as his sister was rumoured to be that he had been when he had first come here.

The thought that he still cared about their opinion of him angered him to no end, so he barely spoke a few words to Lady Jordayne, being unforgivably impolite, and went off to the chamber he occupied when he was here. Behind him, he heard her saying something about a bath.

"Don't bother, my lady," he said. "I won't be back before dark."

His one day in a week of toiling in the salt mines had taught him how to drown his anger in the harsh beating of the tools and emerge back weary to the bones but more composed, anger burning like a steady flame, instead of all-consuming fire. There were salt mines in the Tor as well, as well as extracting salt from the sea water. Ben had worked here as well, on his own will, intended to keep doing it once he settled in with Ilana… had intended, perhaps? He did not know anything about anything now.

The men nearby glanced at him when he entered and grabbed a pick but they were used to his coming and going. Ben worked with a drive, the like of which he did not remember, save for his very first time back there, at Salt Shore. Like then, the steward, Master Tamrod, came and pointed at his bare hands. Ben shook his head. "No," he said.

Salt in a wound. He wanted it, wanted to see the blood dripping, feel the pain that nonetheless would never match the pain of betrayal.

The grizzled man shook his head, muttered something about stupid lords, and went away. Ben would have liked it better if he had said something about stupid Northerners as he had in Ben's very first days here.

He ended the day in blisters but too tired for anger. As impolite as it was, he sent his excuses for not going to the evening feast and Lady Jordayne sent him his meals and a tub with bathwater. Ben vaguely realized that he was making his future life here harder but he was past caring.

The next day, he did not see the sun at all – he was underground before it rose and emerged only after it had gone. But he was startled – stunned, actually – when, going past the great hall, he saw Alor there, talking amiably with Lady Sabella and her son.

What was he doing here? Had he come for Ben? If so, _what_ did he want? Turn him into a hostage, officially? No, this was ridiculous. Still, what did he want? Lord Qorgyle was sitting against him but this was less surprising – everyone knew it was about time for him to present the Lady of the Tor, his second wife's sister, with the gift he had promised her more than two years ago. The splendid cross-breed between sand steed and another breed that this far, could only be found in Sand Stone, although many had tried to emulate it. Hating himself for his weakness, Ben still stole to the stables before anyone in the great hall could see him and the filly was there, as magnificent as she had promised to be when he had first saw her last year. More graceful than the average sand steed, all pale gold and strong legs. Her mane was long like a woman's hair, with curved ears that almost formed a rainbow. But as magnificent as she was, Ben still preferred Honour.

"She's wonderful, isn't she?" he spoke softly as he reached to touch the snowy flanks. "Almost as you."

Hoarse laughter made him look back. Of course, the master of horse at Sand Stone would not let Lord Qorgyle take his darling to her new home without him to guide and guard her. Ben had known the man since his very first night at the desert stronghold. He had in the long line of people waiting to bathe when Ben had used up the entire supply of the castle…

"What makes him better?" he now asked, genuinely curious.

"The fact that he is mine," Ben answered simply. If Alor had any plans to punish him involving Alynna's Honour, Ben would… He did not know what, exactly, he would do but something that Alor would not like!

Changing his mind, he chose not to heed his need of rest and instead took Honour for a long ride, as filthy as he was. As usual, the movement calmed and soothed him, the wind stroked his face and for a while, it was just him, the sea that he could not see but smelled so very near, the twinkling stars, and the sand steed that was his very own. He even stopped asking why – why they had done this to Lya, why they had lied to him, why Alor had come. Until at his return he saw him disappearing up the great staircase.

It was clear that he would get no answers tonight. Sighing, he started climbing up the stairs himself. As usual, Lady Sabelle was a hostess that one could find no mistake in. The candles were tall, so they would burn long into the night, easing the way of her guests.

"He came to bring her here."

Ben spun around. Lord Qorgyle was standing just inside an open door, looking at him. There could be no mistake as to what he alluded to.

"You knew."

The words were sharp like blades and bitter like a new betrayal. The old man did not flinch. "Yes. As of today."

"I don't believe you."

Even as he said it, Ben instinctively looked around. Alor would have flogged him in person for such disrespect just a year ago. _Not now,_ he reminded himself. And Alor was nowhere near to hear.

But the old man who had been so sensitive about the perceived slight his foster son had given him did not look offended at all. "I didn't expect you to."

There was something in his calmness suddenly made Ben feel ashamed. His behavior was so different from Alor's at their parting that Ben found it hard to keep his anger alive. Then, he realized what he had heard. "She's… she's here?" he asked, his heart pounding.

"Not quite," Lord Qorgyle said and stepped aside. "Will you enter?"

It wasn't as if Ben had a choice. He entered and immediately felt the sea again. Lady Sabella had put her goodbrother in a chamber like the one she always choose for Ben, one overlooking the sea where the night cool could steal in and invigorate them. At night, there was little difference between the North and the desert – they were both impossibly cold. That was what Ben and Lord Qorgyle were used to and their hostess made every effort to make them comfortable.

The occupant's bed was already made. His lady wife was nowhere around, presumably still talking to her sister. The windows were wide open, the curtains dark against the lamplight. In his first days in Dorne, Ben had not realized that all king of night insects would have tried to fly in towards the light if not for the dried herbs embedded in the wax. In the North, it was too cold for this. He could see them now, flying close to the window but not entering. One of the lamps was placed on the sill.

"So?" Ben asked as soon as he closed the door.

"He told me you would like to see your sister before she left for the North," Lord Qorgyle said. "But he couldn't bring her here, of course. She's housed in a village close by. You'll be taken there tomorrow if you want."

If he wanted? Of course he wanted it… and yet, in some strange way, he did not. He was guilty of thinking her heartless enough to never send a word that she was alive, at least… she was guilty of almost making their father and brother not alive… and those many men, the best of the North, had lost their lives… He didn't know what to expect of her. He did not know what he should expect of himself.

"Is she fine?" he asked because he couldn't think of anything else to say.

"Alor says so." There was anger in the old man's voice that made Ben look him with narrowed eyes.

"Do you not believe him?" he asked sharply, his heart pounding against his ribs.

"I do," the desert lord replied. "At least I think so… But then, he's always known that he can make me forgive him everything at the end, so why not a lie? I thought I knew him but I never caught the lie when he talked to me. I want to believe that he wouldn't let a young girl be mistreated. After all, it's my own daughter that he'll take to wife very soon."

Ben stared out the window. "He'd never do anything that might cause you pain," he finally said. "He will treat your daughter well."

"That's what I thought. But I once thought he had grown some responsibility, he and his cousins. They proved me wrong when they disfigured Elvar Sand, Oberyn's brother."

In the cool gust and the dark sky spotted with tiny stars, Ben saw Prince Doran's half-brother. One of the best blades in Dorne – and one of the most horrible faces. An eyelid tugged downward. An ugly scar from the angle of the forehead, across the nose, and down to the opposite end of the jaw. Torn mouth that made his words somewhat inarticulate.

"If they did, it must have been an accident," he finally said. "I know they would never do it on purpose."

"It _was_ an accident," Lord Qorgyle said. "They were all twelve then. They should have known better than place themselves in a situation that had the potential for disaster. At the end, their intentions didn't matter. Only their actions did – and do. Is Elvar less disfigured because they didn't mean it? Has he started eating and drinking in front of other people since I last saw him?"

Ben shook his head. He had only seen the man eat once. The sight had been revolting. He had seen him at many feasts, never taking a bite, never sipping from a goblet. Somehow, it was Prince Oberyn and their cousins who had done this to him?

"I am sure he doesn't even think of blaming them," he said. "I've seen them together."

"Of course. I've always thought that the three of them could not forgive themselves, although it looks like I might have been wrong about this, too. I never expected them to be cruel to a young girl but it looks like they did just that to your sister."

Ben spun around. "You said she was fine!"

"How fine can she be after years of imprisonment?"

"With being kept in good conditions?" Ben asked angrily and surprised by this anger. "Quite well, I should say! Have you not heard of the black cells? Or the legends of what the Wyls did to Rhaenys Targaryen?"

"She died," the old man answered meticulously.

"Lyanna isn't dead!"

"Of course she isn't. But I'd like to see her in person, just to be sure. I would love to know what kind of man I brought up. Since he didn't think it proper to confide in me, who can say what happened to both of their captives in the absence of anyone who could protect them? I won't be surprised if he and his sister discussed murdering both your sister and the Prince and justifying it with protecting peace and stability. Actually, I'll be surprised if they were not very tempted to do it… I need to know what kind of husband I am sending my daughter to."

Lady Alynna, swarthy and naked, and beautiful, and the hopelessness in her voice as she talked about the children who had grown so distant from her. Even after getting the power she had aspired to, she had not had the chance to make everything the way she wanted.

"I thought only actions mattered?" Ben asked bitingly. "Anyway, isn't it a little late for second thoughts now? Are you going to dishonour yourself by breaking the marriage if my sister's condition doesn't satisfy you? Or do you expect to find her in Elvar Sand's state? I believe she has both eyes intact."

"That's very kind of you," Alor said from the door.

Ben had not heard him enter. He was white as wax – and very angry. Not with Ben, though. It looked like Ben did not exist for him in this moment. He crossed the chamber in two strides and stood before the man who had made him. "That's very kind of _you_ as well." His voice was steel. "You will forgive me for not appreciating it, though. Did you _have_ to bring Elvar in this? How dare you use him in this sordid story to make a point!"

For a moment, Lord Qorgyle's face softened before growing stern again. "So, the girl is unharmed, then?" he asked.

"Of course she is!" Alor spat. "And you know it. By the Seven, we didn't even touch this good for nothing husband of Alynna's – and not because I didn't want to, you can trust me on this!"

"You must admit that resisting your impulses has always been harder for you than other people," the desert man said calmly.

"Are we back to Elvar again?" Alor asked bitterly. "Old sins cast old shadows and all that?"

_Yes_ , Ben thought. _Just not the way you think._ But he could not say what the right way was.

It looked like both men had forgotten about Ben now. Lord Qorgyle reached out and grasped Alor's hand, just for a moment. "Eighteen years is a very long time," he said. "Do you not think you have already served your sentence, Alor?"

"No," Alor said flatly. "And I still find it despicable to use my guilt to make me look better in something that I don't regret at all!"

Ben gasped, finally realizing what had just taken place. With a master maneuver, Lord Qorgyl had just made him look at the events from another perspective, condemning his foster son in a way that had driven Ben to defend him. Placed in this position, he had looked at the events surrounding Lyanna's imprisonment with new eyes and reached the conclusion that everything considered, Alor and the rest of them had treated Lyanna quite leniently. Of course, it did not excuse the deception, and still…

"I am sorry, my lord," he said, "that I did not realize earlier who your ward had taken his unprincipled ways from."

He turned and strode for the door, escaping the angry argument starting behind him. But he had the feeling that the harm had already been done.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, for those anticipating the meeting between Ben and Lyanna: I am sorry. I fully intended to include it but I made the mistake of looking at an ASOIAF forum a few hours ago (I hadn't done this for quite a while.) And the Rhaegar/Lyanna fans had just gotten to the point of disparaging Elia for her troubles in giving birth. When being reminded that sickly Elia gave birth to two healthy children in two years while healthy Lyanna died in her very first childbirth, they turned to Elia's potentially deadly third birth and then resorted to claiming that no one knew if Elia's children were healthy. WTF? They're now having demands not only to quantity but quality of Elia's children to make Rhaegar and Lyanna look better? I make no secret of the fact that I dislike Lyanna but I disliked the writing of her fans so much that I felt I couldn't write her right now. I'll leave this for another time when I'm objective (by my standards which, admittedly, are not the majority of ASOIAF fans'.)


	13. The Sandglass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who commented, you're a great inspiration!

All night long, Ben worried about what he would tell Lyanna when they met, sleep avoiding him; only when he rose, dressed, and waited for Alor to take him did he feel any fear for her safety. It was so strange – he knew he should not fear this at all. He had not. If they had not harmed her over all these years, they would not do so now and still, this sudden panic would not leave him alone.

The first dawn, the grey dimness preceding the rosy light, had already started to spill in the chamber when the knocking at the door came. He rushed to open, almost tripping in his own feet in his hurry.

It was Lord Qorgyle who had come to collect him and Ben gave him a dark look. "Did you decide it was better if I don't meet him right now?" he asked crossly but the old man was not impressed with his impudence at all. Instead, he looked at him in a way that said, _You think yourself too important, boy, but you aren't._

"No," he said. "Actually, Alor asked me to. He feels that he has spent too much time in your sister's company already and I suppose she won't be thrilled to see him again so soon."

"Or ever," Ben corrected.

The Dornish lord took this in his stride. "Yes," he said indifferently and Ben felt a stab of disappointment when he came to realize that he would not get what he wanted most of all right now – the chance to have a good exchange of angry words with someone to relieve the tension and fear as he went.

This early, the only servants still awake were the kitchen ones. Ben could see the spirals of smoke drifting high in the air as the two of them headed for the stables. And he longed with sudden, unexpected sharpness for the place where people rose later because there was no need to race a hot day by using fire in the kitchens before the actual dawn. Where he had known the rules since he was born and before. Known everyone about this long, unlike the man striding next to him now – or the man's foster son indeed!

Honour whinnied softly by the way of greeting. Ben set about preparing him, thinking about the dishonourable woman that he had been named for but his anger had lost its edge. It was more like a dull but pulsating ache and underneath, the bitterness of how they had all lied to him. If Alor was the one preparing his own steed next to him, anger would have been easier to maintain and bring out some blessed relief but he wasn't. Instead, there was the old man who had manipulated Ben, forcing him to see things that he did not want to but never lied to him. Even Alor had confirmed that every word coming from Lord Qorgyle's mouth was the truth.

In this part of Dorne, settlements were so close to each other that Ben had barely had the time to feel his fear for Lyanna once again and list all the people who had lied to him when they entered a village of red roofs and screeching hens. Lord Qorgyle asked about the route the first group of men they met in the street and they directed them to a house at the very outskirts. Of course!

The woman who came to meet them was short and rounded. Her hands were broad and rough – hands that had known nothing but work. She wiped them on her apron and directed the newcomers to the small patch of land that was her orchard. "She refused to come inside," she said disapprovingly. "The night air's going to kill her, see if it won't."

_I doubt it,_ Ben thought. _If Lady Alynna's vindictiveness didn't, I really doubt it._ And then, a shadow appeared from the shadows and let out a scream, and he found himself being hugged so hard that breath was squeezed out of his lungs. "I didn't believe him when he told me you were here, forced to wed one of their women because this was too terrible a thought to bear but oh, now I'm so happy to see you!" Lyanna cried out and he fleetingly thought that it was strange how she felt smaller in his arms. She was now actually shorter than him.

"I didn't believe this woman and her terrible brother were letting me go but they are!" Lyanna was exultant. "I'm going home! I'm going home!"

Now, the anger he had been seeking for come all on its own. How they had dared to keep a freedom-loving creature like Lyanna in _prison_? She gave him one last squeeze and let go. "Come on!" she urged. "Let me see you!"

He also stared at her and in the unfurling light, she looked almost the same to him – but the surprise in her eyes told him that he looked different to her. "You even changed your clothing," she said. "You're dressed like one of them."

He laughed. "If I had hung to my Northern attire, I would have been boiled and buried before you know it," he said.

Lord Qorgyle moved to leave and his motion drew Lyanna's notice. "Who is this?" she asked and then her voice became sharp. "Am I to be handed to another terrible man like the one who brought me here? Her brother?"

Now, Ben's worry raced like fire in his veins. "Did he do something to you?" he asked in a tense voice, his imagination drawing the most horrible pictures ever…

"He mocked me," Lyanna said angrily. "He told me that Father would not lift a finger to avenge the injustice and…"

Ben's relief was so that he could only perceive her words that no actual harm had been done to her. Not so with Lord Qorgyle, though. He came close, pushing Ben aside. His face was stony; his voice could break walls. "Four young people went with your brother to avenge what they believed was your kidnapping – and just one of them left alive. When your father was summoned to answer to Aerys' accusation of treason because, clearly, he thought his son had the right to abduct you…"

"He didn't," Lyanna said angrily, raising her chin. "I went with him on my own free will."

"… two hundred of what I hear to be the best men of the North lost their lives and your father and brother were spared the same fate only by a thread. Lady Alynna's son almost died by his grandfather's hand when _she_ was summoned to answer for her husband's disappearance with you. I have no idea what you thought you were achieving but your mild imprisonment in comfort here is far less than what you deserve. Don't make me tell you what you deserve because you won't like the answer!"

He paused but to Ben's surprise, Lyanna did not yell out an angry reply. The old man went on, "I know it was not your idea, that you were cajoled into wanting what an older, powerful man promised you knowing that he was not free to offer it. But by the Seven, because of those who died and the ones who nearly died – your own father and brother included! – you should show at least some realization who you were a victim to and some regret for the lives your great quest for love and freedom took – the lives of your own people, not mine, thank the Seven!"

His voice was not so calm now. And Lyanna's eyes were wide. She was shaking. But he was not done. "You just lost your right to be treated with anything but disdain here, in Dorne, Lady Lyanna," he went on. "And in the North, you deserve far worse. The sandglass gets empty over time and your time for making amends has already started. If you miss this chance, you'll never be granted another."

"Stop it," Ben said sharply but none of them seemed to hear him. Lyanna's eyes were getting impossibly wide. She swayed precariously.

"Your prince was not the ideal and I'm sorry you thought he was. What Lady Alynna did to you pales in comparison to what you did to her – and almost did to the realm. And if you don't realize it, you're very foolish indeed. Do you understand? It's disgusting to twist the mind of a child-woman. You still have the time to recognize it and act accordingly, show your regret to the families who lost their people and go on. Or you may keep stomping your feet and insisting on being avenged. In which case you will indeed become the selfish whore the realm thinks you are. You have the luxury of this choice because Lady Alynna will return you to your father no matter what you do. A regard that you did not bother to show her."

He turned and left without looking at either of them. A muffled sob escaped Lyanna's lips. She drew a deep breath. "What an old fool," she spat. "When we go to Father and tell him… Are you ready?"

Ben was staring at her as if she had grown a second head. "Ready for what?"

"Leaving, of course!" Lyanna said impatiently, wiping her tears angrily. "Surely you don't intend to stay in the land of these liars? You aren't going to marry _her_ daughter, are you?"

Ben kept staring and when realization dawned upon him, he saw red. "Leave here? Are you mad? I'm not going anywhere! It took so much time and efforts for Father and Lady Alynna to negotiate it and it took me even longer to make my life here! _Leave?_ "

"She was lying," Lyanna reminded him. "From the very beginning. Can you trust someone who lies about one thing? She was certainly lying about everything!"

Ben was stunned, shocked, disbelieving. "Do you not have any sense of responsibility at all?" he yelled. "Do you have any idea about the situation you put us in? For a week, I thought they were dead – dead, Lya! I thought you were all dead, that I didn't have anyone. But they returned – thanks to her. While the best men of the North left their bones there and _stayed_ dead! Do you not have any idea what it cost Father to rebuild his authority? Offer amends because they died for no noble cause but because you and Lady Alynna's husband wanted to be wild and free – but keep the crown as well? She might have lied about you but the efforts it took to rebuild what was broken after your departure – it wasn't a lie. How dare you demand revenge for being kept in comfort? This isn't playing knights fighting injustice, Lyanna – this is human lives that we're talking about! How _dare_ you think I'll break it _now_ because she lied about you – when she could have killed you without anyone knowing?" He saw how his sister's face turned even white if this was possible at all but felt no pity, his fear for her completely transformed into anger at her, her blithe oblivion, her expectation that he was as selfish and foolish as her. In his despair, he yelled, "Grow up, Lya!"

Silence wrapped them, cold and hostile, grey eyes meeting grey eyes, disbelief and fury in both pairs. For a long time, none of them moved. Only the clucking of the hens gathering over their grain tore the tension at last.

"I'm fourteen, you know," Lyanna finally said and the anger on her face slowly faded. "I was older than you when I ran away but now…

He nodded, his own irritation disappearing at the sad reality she had stated so clearly.

"Perhaps you are right… and he as well," Lyanna went on slowly, stumbling with her words. "Perhaps I was a young girl but you see… when I'm listening to you now, I think I stayed just as I was. You grew up, I didn't; you learned all these things about deaths, lies, and responsibility; I stayed fourteen. And the blame for this is hers, Ben, no matter how you spin it. I might have been thoughtless and reckless but she kept me in confinement fully realizing what she was doing."

"Would you prefer it if she had had you killed?"

"That's beside the point," Lyanna said impatiently. "I am sorry for everything that took place, although I never asked anyone to ride to King's Landing…"

Ben was about to deliver a biting reply but something held him back. Right now, this half-confession of guilt was all that anyone could wish from Lyanna. "I know," he said. "I don't truly blame you, Lya. But the North… they won't see it this way. And while Father and Brandon will be furious with Lady Alynna, you can be sure that you won't get away easy either."

"I don't care," Lyanna stated. "I only want to go home."

_You want to go back to the home you knew once_ , Ben thought sadly, finally realizing just how stuck his sister was. She might have stayed caught in the web of time but the world had gone on without her. She likely thought that she'd get some telling off and perhaps some confinement – but in her own room.

"Just don't start speaking of vengeance," he said wearily. "Believe me, it won't go well."

"Of course I won't!" she snapped as if it had been Ben's idea. And then, she got quiet again. "Every day, I wish I could turn time back," she said, as if her refusal to leave with Rhaegar Targaryen now did not speak for itself. "But it can't be done, can it?"

"No," he said and her shoulders sagged before she squared them again. "Well, if you aren't coming with me, may I choose the one who will not accompany me?"

"Have no care," Ben said. "Alor isn't going anywhere. He's getting wed next month."

Lyanna shook her head impatiently. "I didn't mean him! He may come or not, as he pleases. But I don't want the old man near. He's… repellent."

_Ah._ Ben really should not feel as surprised as he did. All children grew up, after all. But no one liked being forced to when they wanted to remain children. "I understand," he said, thinking of how Lord Qorgyle had managed to infuriate him, Alor, and now Lyanna in less than a day. Quite the achievement! "It isn't this bad, Lya," he said. "Even Brandon had to grow up."

The fear in his eyes told him that she had finally started to realize the truth of her situation and it hurt because he could not make it better. There were some things that one had to do on their own.

It was her turn now.

In his mind's eye, Ben almost saw the grits in the glass fall.

 


	14. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who commented!

It was in the first moments after the sun had started rearing its fiery head, lending the land some very faint warmth after a night that had been unusually cool, cold even, when Ben stopped in front of the village house and entered, leaving his companions behind. Lyanna raised a pale face, any joy sapped from her face. Ben darkly wondered if she had finally started to realize that going home would not be the saving grace that she had envisioned all this time, that there would be repercussions, that their father would not see things her way. "Are you afraid?" he asked and she shook her head fiercely.

"I've been waiting for this for years," she said and still, she could not suppress the tremble in her voice. "I can't wait to head back home."

He gave her a long look. "This is your last chance," he warned. "If you want to go after Rhaegar, you have to do it now. Once you head for Winterfell, there won't be any change of mind."

Surely this would give her some thought? She had given up everything for the Prince. Even if she had not thought it over.

Lyanna shook her head. "I won't change my mind," she said. "I'm sorry that you aren't coming with me, though," she added thoughtfully and looked at him intently. "I'm not going to lie to them, Ben, am I? Your life here is… tolerable?"

He smiled, amused all of a sudden. "Brandon asked me the same thing," he said. "When he came over. He loved it here. I do as well, Lya. My life is more than tolerable. I feel great here."

She gave him an intent look. This time, he did not smile but he did not look away either. He had nothing to hide. This was the truth. While still angry with Alor and his family, he could now see their reasons and even recognize that they had had the power to do Lyanna much worse. As to Ben himself, he could see why in the beginning, he had not been trusted. Even later… What would he have done if he had known? He was pleased that he would never have to find out. Over time, they would be able to leave this in the past.

Lyanna started looking around the simply decorated room for her scarce belongings. "It's strange, you know," she said, careful not to look at him. "I felt guilty for your being saddled here. I'm glad that you have made your life in Dorne a good one, don't get me wrong," she was quick to add. "But I did feel guilty."

This was the closest thing Ben would get to admission of guilt and regret from her right now. He nodded, although she did not see it.

"The old gods speak to me from time to time, even here," he said. "In the old places. I was very angry with you, Lya. In the beginning. And even later. But now, I can see that everything that happened had led me to my fate. To become Ilana Jordayne's husband. And a head of the Dornish fleet one day."

"But I'll be seeing so little of you," Lyanna said.

"You would have seen little enough of me anyway," he said and although he had not meant it as another criticism of her decision to move to another continent, she recoiled. "I'm going to visit soon, Lya," he promised, for he was not a prisoner, for all he had felt like one in his first days here.

A sad smile touched her lips. "A Stark visiting Winterfell," she said. "Who would have thought!" She paused. "You'll compensate Zinna for her troubles, won't you?" she asked, meaning the woman who had taken her to her home and provided her with all the comforts that she could find.

"She was already compensated generously but yes, I will," Ben corrected, seeing his sister's expression. He was glad that one thing had not changed: Lyanna cared for those less fortunate than her, especially when they had been good to her. He wished he had the time to tell her about the salt mines. This was a practice that she would like.

"I wish you could be the one to escort me," Lyanna said again, giving the huge pillows and the narrow bed a parting look. Her eyes stayed fixed to the jug of freshly picked flowers near the window. In the light of the rising sun, they gleamed like a river of liquid fires of all shades. "I know, I know you feel that you can't," she said quickly. "Well, at least I didn't get the old man. This is something… Who is this?"

Her face was suddenly alert, intent, eager. Ben noticed it with a pang in his heart, for this was a younger Celedra's look when she had first set her eyes on him; had he had a mirror handy when he had first seen Alynna unclothed, he would have likely seen the same expression on his own face. The face of youth which did not look for merits, soul, anything beyond this first instant liking, lust, infatuation. That was how it had been for him; that was how it should have been for her and had not because Rhaegar Targaryen had crossed her way. "This is Blaze," he said.

"The one who's escorting me?" Lyanna said; to Ben's amazement, she had actually pinked delicately.

"Yes. He's a friend of mine, Blaze Gargalen," he said and saw how the uneasiness retreated from her face, leaving only bitter regret.

"I'll never be free of this stain. Isn't it true?" she asked finally. "One hasty decision is going to haunt me forever."

"As it has haunted others," Ben reminded her, wondering when it was going to sink into her. Only after she arrived at Winterfell, he supposed. Only after she saw.

"I know," Lyanna said, looking at the flowers once again. "I can say that I regret it but what good is it going to be?"

"Little," Ben agreed, for her regret could never give him back the days, weeks and months when he had felt unwanted and barely tolerated, viewed with distrust because of her. It could never make better for the time when he had been convinced that he was the only Stark left. It could not bring the dead men back. And still… "But if you want to say that you regret it, say so. Only if it's true, though."

It was important for the words to be true – for the peace, for their House and the House that had taken him in and accepted him, at the end. For his own peace. For hers.

Lyanna looked away from the flowers and straight at him. "I do regret it."

He came over and took her hand to lead her in the sunlight, now bright and brilliant, warm and nurturing. "Then, we all have a chance."

**The End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the epilogue seems a bit out of place. I fully intended to make it all about Ben but it turned out, I couldn't get the way the show ruined Lyanna's character out of my head, so I had to give her the redemption screenwriters refused her in order to make Jon not just the "lawful" king but a product of awe-inspiring true love.
> 
> Perhaps I'll make a oneshot about the welcome she finds in Winterfell when the true extent of the consequences of her great elopement finally dawn on her. One day.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who stayed with me till the end!


End file.
